


Wings of Shadows

by TrovanaLP



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrovanaLP/pseuds/TrovanaLP
Summary: As an Illyrian, Marzia thought her life ended when someone ripped her wings for revenge. She, however, didn't expect her life to be saved by a friend from the past."My shadows have whispered me many secrets, but the moment they knew what you meant for me, they went completely quiet to listen when the bond snapped."
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

◇◇◇

**_RHYSAND_ **

It was very common to wake up in the early hours of the morning these days. Keeping an unstable peace in a continent such as Prythian, especially after a war, was tricky business. Now that things were starting to go back to what they were before, there was even more work to do in order to ensure that the agreement over the treaty was upheld by all.

It was uncommon, however, to awake in a house that seemed to be bursting in anxiety and worry. That feeling clung to me, to the walls and the stones of the street outside, but I wasn't feeling that same dread. In fact, I had woken up pleasantly naked in my mate's arms, before a string of worry pulled me away from that warmth and into the roof of the house. 

I knew that my worry didn't come from Cassian either, who was still very much asleep downstairs in one of the guest rooms, as I could hear his snores coming from below. If it wasn't me, and it wasn't him, it had to be Azriel.

In fact, my brother showed up not even two seconds later, carrying a bloody mass in his arms. He was exhausted, his wings pulled tight, and his shadows swirling around him with an unseen agitation.

"Rhys," he croaked. "A healer."

My brow furrowed, a line of worry crossing down the middle of my forehead. The blood on him wasn't his, I could smell it. It belonged to the mass in his arms, whose chest barely rose with each breath.

"Who?" I asked.

"Marzia."

That name alone set me in motion. I told him to take her to the small infirmary we kept in our house and set her on the table. Then, I personally flew all the way to Madja's house.

It was unusual, if not unbelievable, to hear that name coming from Azriel. It had been over a century since he had uttered it, decades since Cassian had jokingly brought it up. To hear him say it, with a desperation that bordered in insanity, was entirely different.

Madja was thankfully awake and alert and joined me without hesitation. The severity of the situation must have shown in my face, and she said nothing as I flew as fast as I could back to the house. 

◇◇◇

The atmosphere in the infirmary was bleak. The little table in the middle now held an unmoving form that was deadly pale, while her blood soaked up the boards below her back.

Grief was etched in Azriel's face, as his fingers intertwined with hers until his knuckles turned white.

"Save her," he whispered, barely audible. "Please."

Madja nodded and began to work silently. 

I took a few steps towards Azriel, placing a hand on his tense shoulder. He acknowledged me with a nod but stayed still.

"What happened?" I asked.

As soon as those words were out of my lips, Madja gasped loudly and asked us to help her. She wanted us to turn Marzia around. When we did, I felt my stomach lurch. I had never met her, but I knew that she had wings - wings that were no longer there, judging by the gashes on her back.

Madja's work became almost frantic, while Azriel slumped as if defeated, and I fought back the urge to vomit. 

"Azriel," I repeated, as strongly as I could. "What happened?"

"I found her like this in the Steppes. Someone attacked her."

I watched how his eyes focused solely on Madja's work, and I knew I wouldn't get much from him like this. I stepped away from him, taking a seat in a small stool, and waited - while I went deep inside my memories.

I knew very little of Marzia. I knew that Azriel and Cassian had met her many years before, when they were busy calming down rebellions in the mountains, and convincing old and stern chiefs that female Illyrians could also be trained as warriors. I knew that something had happened between her and Azriel, and that Cassian hadn't been too happy about it. 

If I had been there, perhaps I would know more about her, but I was in the Night Court, sometimes too busy with being High Lord to actually join them in every camp for long periods of time, as I would have preferred. Cassian definitely knew her more than I did, well enough to tease and taunt Azriel at random times, given what he claimed to have seen them do. 

I knew that Azriel hadn't taken many lovers. Not because he couldn't or had trouble finding them, but because of Morrigan. However, there had been a few; and if I believed Cassian, Marzia had been one of them. Perhaps, she had been the most noticeable one in that list. Seeing him with her now, I had no doubts about it. Those worry-lines on his forehead were enough sign. 

I went back further, to the first time that Cassian had mentioned her. If Azriel's looks could kill, there would have been very little left of Cass. The teasing had been relentless soon after they had left that camp, and even in my presence, the mere mention of her name made Az go unusually quiet, while Cassian dissolved into laughter. When I dared to ask about "poor little Marz," Cassian had explained everything to me in graphic detail, while Az had said nothing. I heard about the first time they had seen her, when she had been so angry about being left out from a training session that she had smashed her way to the training grounds until she found the camp leader, broke his nose, and proceeded to beat up every opponent until she had proven herself worthy of being there; to the last time they had seen her, when Cassian saw them naked in Azriel's tent. Many years later, Az would tell me his version.

It wasn't much different from Cassian's story, but his tone was melancholic and nostalgic. He had felt something very real for her, and I was now seeing it with my own eyes - while all the memories continued to flow. I couldn't deny what I was seeing, and I also couldn't help to compare it to what had happened Under the Mountain.

If that had been Feyre lying on that table right now, I knew I would be as afflicted as Azriel was. However, in all those years, I had never once heard the mention of the word "mate," though now, I was beginning to consider that to be a very real possibility.

A sigh of relief pulled me from my thoughts as Madja took a step back. There wasn't much to see from Marzia's back other than bandages, but Azriel looked renewed and relieved.

"Thank you," he muttered, voice raw. 

I wondered if he had cried during the process.

"She will never be the same again," Madja said, voice low. "But she will survive."

Azriel nodded, keeping a scarred hand firmly over Marzia's pale fingers.

"She must rest," Madja continued, giving instructions. "She shouldn't move for a few hours, until her body begins to adapt."

"How bad was the damage?" I asked, getting up and taking a step forward.

"The cuts on her back were made with a jagged blade, making their full healing almost impossible. She will always have scars between her shoulders."

"Was she conscious when they-?" Az asked, unable to finish.

I knew it wasn't just because it was Marzia, but because if it happened to any of us, the pain would be unbearable.

"She must have been debilitated somehow, but, yes, there is a chance she was conscious and aware that her wings were being removed."

I felt my stomach churn with nausea. Azriel only nodded, although his shadows were agitated, swirling around his tense shoulders and upper arms.

"Anything else?" He asked.

"Let her rest and change her bandages every two or three days."

"How much time will she need to recover?" I asked.

"As much as she deems necessary."

"Then that means she will stay here for a while," I mused. "Az, you can take her -"

"She will stay with me, in my bedroom."

I nodded. His tone didn't leave room for saying much else. 

"I'll take Madja home," I said. "Will you be okay?"

But he wasn't looking at me when he answered with a soft 'yes.' He was looking at her, at the gentle rise of her chest with each breath, while one of his hands ran softly and lovingly through the curls on her head.

◇◇◇

That scene stayed in my mind through my flight to Madja's house. It replayed over and over, until there was only one thing occupying my thoughts. If Azriel didn't have a mate, could it be possible for Marzia to be _his,_ then? If the answer was yes, why hadn't the bond snapped in the two hundred years they had known each other?

As I was entering the house, I was greeted by the sound of Cassian and Feyre having breakfast. It wasn't extremely late, and while my stomach still felt a little queasy, I could enjoy the company until I felt better to eat.

"Rhys!" Cassian bellowed. "You look like hell!"

I let out a soft laugh, taking a seat next to them.

"Where were you?" Feyre asked. "When I woke up, you were already gone."

"Yes," I said. "I… had to attend to some things."

"Did it involve going to the butcher?" Cassian asked. "You smell like blood."

I noticed Feyre's worried eyes upon me and shook my head.

"No. Azriel brought someone injured here."

"Are they okay?" Feyre asked.

"Yes," I said. "They'll survive." 

Cassian had stopped moving. From the moment I mentioned that Azriel brought someone, he had slowly begun to lower his fork and go extremely still.

"Who?" He asked.

"Cassian," I said. "It's okay…"

" _Who_ is it, Rhysand?"

"Marzia," I whispered.

He swore loudly, getting up abruptly. "Where is she?"

"She was injured. I couldn't deny Azriel-"

"Don't tell me she is in his bedroom…" he muttered, before finally striding away from the table.

With a sigh, I followed after him. Feyre was right behind me, confusion written all over her features. By the time we reached Azriel's bedroom, Cassian was already inside; may the Cauldron help us.


	2. Chapter 2

◇◇◇

**_FEYRE_ **

I reached the door to Azriel's bedroom utterly confused, and I stared at the scene before me in bewilderment. There was a female in Azriel’s bed, half-naked. Her frame was slight, partially hidden by Azriel's sleeping form. Cassian, who had stormed angrily ahead of me and Rhys, was yanking her arm upward, waking her up instantly. Azriel took a sudden leap, trying to grab for her, which only helped her too-big sweater - the only clothes she had on - to ride higher up her thighs. 

“What are you doing here?” Cassian growled. 

She whimpered; her face contorted in pain.

“Cassian,” Azriel warned, taking her other arm in his hands. “She is hurt.”

“How hurt can she be if she is lounging on your bed _again_?”

Azriel shook his head, fixing a calming look upon Cassian’s frown. “She needed help, Cassian.”

The Illyrian warrior let go of her arm, and finally took the rest of her appearance into consideration. His eyes softened, and then a strong hand went to her back. Her eyes widened in shock, but she let his fingertips touch the spot between the shoulder blades - where his wings were. He let out a soft hiss.

“They found you, didn’t they?” he asked, running his fingers downwards.

“Yes,” she rasped. “They did.”

“How long were you able to hide?”

“Almost two hundred years,” she said. “But I couldn’t run forever.”

Cassian swore under his breath. He directed his attention to Azriel. “How did _you_ find her?”

“I was patrolling the border. I found her - and her wings - covered in blood by the steppes. I couldn’t leave her behind.”

“Nothing to do with how she left, right?” Cassian asked, a sudden smile upon his lips.

“Cassian…” Azriel warned.

She moved faster. “I did what I did to survive,” she said.

“Yes, because surviving definitely means fucking your way out of hell.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, and the female barely blinked at him. 

“I delayed them for two hundred years, didn’t I?”

"That… you did."

"Can someone explain?" I interrupted, glaring at Cassian, who seemed to be getting ready for a fight. "Because I am utterly confused."

"Well," Cassian said. "I'll let Marzia tell you herself."

He then walked out of the room, choosing to stay by the door frame instead. 

_Is this normal?_ I asked down the bond.

_No, not really,_ Rhys said. _Cass is angry, perhaps rightfully so._

Azriel stiffened and shrunk on his bed, leaving more space open for the female, Marzia, to speak. 

_And Az?_ I asked again.

_He has never enjoyed Cassian's teasing, but he is enduring it for her sake._

_Why? I mean…?_

_Just listen._

The bond sent a spark into their direction again. I noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt, and that her sweater was definitely one that I had seen Azriel wear before.

"I am Marzia," she said, bowing her head.

Her ears were pointed, but only with the slightest curve. Her hair, dark brown, tumbled in waves to her shoulders, and her golden eyes shone brightly in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She held herself awkwardly, as if something was missing. Perhaps, I realized, she was missing her wings - which Azriel said he found near her at the Steppes.

Rhysand surveyed her carefully. "You are not Illyrian," he said. "At least, not fully."

"My father was High Fae," she explained. "My mother Illyrian. They met many years ago. She was a prisoner, and he used her for his pleasure. When he found out that she was pregnant with me, he left her at an Illyrian camp to give birth."

She looked at Azriel, perhaps asking for confirmation to continue. He nodded softly, reassuringly, gazing in her direction.

"My mother wanted to be a warrior," Marzia continued. "But her wings were clipped when she bled for the first time. Then, the Fae took her."

Azriel moved an inch closer to her, placing a scarred hand on her knee for comfort. She didn't shrink.

"He left my mother at the camp when he realized that she was pregnant," she continued. "But took her again as soon as I was weaned. I haven't seen them ever since." She paused, taking a steadying breath. "I stayed with my mother's sister, and she took care of me until I could fend for myself. Then, I became obsessed with becoming a warrior like she wanted to be.”

“We reached that particular camp when she was coming out of her teen years," Cassian said from the doorframe. "The camp's commander wasn't too keen on letting females train to be warriors, but they didn't resist while Azriel and I were there. Her training began with us there." 

"I knew," she said. "That when they left and I bled for the first time, my wings would be clipped. And I didn't want my life to be like that. I wanted to fly and be free."

"That still doesn't explain why you went to Azriel's tent that night before you left…" Cassian said.

"I bled for the first time that day. If I was going to leave, it had to be then, before they realized and clipped my wings. And it was better to be with someone I trusted than with some random stranger."

"Don't mind him," Rhysand told her, pointing at Cassian. "He is just jealous you didn't pick him."

"You already knew how to fly. But you wouldn't have survived if I hadn't made you train - I thought I'd get a bit more recognition for it." However, Cassian's words weren't hard or judgmental. He was simply stating facts. The smirk that was pulling at the corners of his mouth also made it evident that he didn't disagree with letting Azriel have some fun.

The female relaxed, her shoulders slumped. I allowed myself to ask what had been gnawing at the back of my mind. 

"What happened to your wings?" I asked.

I knew it was the wrong thing to say based on how everyone bristled around me. The girl held my gaze, but soon her eyes watered, and she looked down, unable to speak or move. Azriel, who had retreated a bit further into the shadows as she spoke, pulled himself another inch closer to her. It was obvious that he was shirtless, given that his muscles and the tattoos on him were on full display for everyone to see, but for a second I wondered if he was also naked underneath the bed sheets.

_He isn't,_ Rhysand said down the bond. _But the way he is guarding her… there is something else at play here._

_What about her sweater,_ his _sweater, I mean?_ I asked.

_Like I said, there is something else we are missing here._

"They cleaved them right out of her back," Az said, looking down at the mattress below him and Marzia. Her hand, pale and slightly calloused, found his, and their fingers intertwined. There was certainly something unspoken between them, that allowed for such comfort and closeness. "They weren't clipped, left as some useless reminder of what she used to have, but ripped out…"

"Vicious," Cassian said. "And cowardly. Whoever did it was more scared of you than anything else. If not, they wouldn't have bothered."

"Why not kill me?" She asked, low. "Why leave me _crippled_ for life?"

"Hatred is a wicked thing," Rhysand said. "Someone must have been really mad at you."

"I can't remember who they were," she whispered.

"I'll find them," Azriel said, taking her hands. "I promise."

Then, in a move that shocked us all, he lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips against her fingers, looking up into her eyes as he leaned back. 

◇◇◇

"Could they be mated?" I asked Rhys a few hours later, walking with our arms linked along the Rainbow.

"No. If they are mates, the bond hasn't snapped into place yet. Remember, Feyre darling, that it can sometimes take a little longer."

"I know, but their closeness… their comfort…"

"Well, that might have something to do with how she gave herself to him as soon as she bled. Az perhaps feels responsible, even, for taking her maidenhead."

"Do you think he knew when they first had sex?"

"My guess is that no, he didn't know. And when he realized it, she might have already been far away."

"What do you mean?"

"She has this… odd determination about herself. My bet is that she wanted to leave her camp but wouldn't do it until she had gotten her hands on Azriel. Since she couldn't do that until she had bled, I assume that right after they were done, she left."

"Wouldn't he have noticed?"

The smirk on Rhys' face was amused but knowing.

"Az is a tender lover," he said. "He hasn't taken many females to his bed, but the few he's had left an invisible mark on him - he remembers all of them fondly. Marzia, however, seems to have shaken his world to the core. To the point of him surrendering his entire self to her."

My eyes opened at that. Azriel, who could be so ruthless, whose stealthiness characterized his every step, was a hopeless romantic at heart?

"He told us about her, you know?" Rhys said, deep in his memories. "I obviously didn't know her, not like they did, but now it makes a lot of sense."

"What did he say about her?"

"He said that she was the youngling who had stolen away his peace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read the story so far! I am glad that you are all enjoying it! :)


	3. Chapter 3

◇◇◇

**_CASSIAN_ **

Cassian remembered.

He remembered every curve, every ripple of flesh, every inch of skin that he had seen centuries ago inside of Azriel's tent in that damned Illyrian camp.

He remembered Marzia as well, a young and fickle youngling that was barely seventeen in comparison to his hundreds of years. To Azriel's hundreds of years as well. And yet, that hadn't stopped her from trailing after Azriel like a lovestruck female in a romance novel. It hadn't stopped her from following his friend to his tent and dropping her clothes on the ground, revealing her innocent nakedness and a fierce determination to let him do as he pleased with her body. 

He could recall the grunts, the sounds coming from Az's tent. He had become worried, thinking perhaps that his brother had been injured and was tending to himself all alone. Nothing prepared him for the female riding his brother with such passion, that even her wings were strained and taut. Cassian knew that Azriel had taken females to his bed before, always carefully and picky of choosing the right one. This one, however, was different; this one had taken him by surprise and _chosen_ him instead.

Cassian had seen the small but defined back, the lightly dappled brown skin of her thin figure, and the spread-out wings. He had heard the moans, noticed the unmistakable smell of their arousal mixing together, and seen a pair of ravenous hands touching as much as they could despite the siphons and the burn scars - waist, thigh, neck, breast. Her fingers had been buried in Azriel's black hair, pulling him closer to her chest, her barely-there breasts - but Azriel wanted to see her, to keep his eyes open and see her mouth fall as she took every inch of him deeply inside her body. 

Which made him see Cassian standing just at the entrance of his tent, watching the scene with a wicked smile. A suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows was a clear indication that Cassian wanted to join, but a growl born directly from the middle of Azriel's chest stopped him before he could go any further.

"Mine," Azriel grunted, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, while a hand went up to cradle her face to smash their lips together. 

Illyrians could be extremely territorial; there was no space left for Cassian between them. He left before things could escalate, potentially get ugly. Besides, keeping the peace in that particular camp was more important than having a female warming his bed. He could get to that later. He threw one last smile in their direction and left.

◇◇◇

The next morning, Cassian sat on a low stool by the kitchen table in Rhys' new home, waiting to see when Azriel would get hungry and come downstairs to fetch some food. He had questions, thousands of them, swirling around his brain. To him, Marzia's presence was unnerving. It wasn't every day that someone from the past made an appearance like that. And the matter of her wings was even more worrisome - such brutality towards Illyrians was unheard of.

He heard Azriel's light steps a few minutes later and straightened on his stool. His grin was plastered on his face when Azriel walked in.

"Hello, brother," Cassian said. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes," Azriel said, bristling.

"And Marzia? Did _she_ sleep well?"

"Better than I did. She needed to rest."

"So, you will give her a few days before you decide you want another taste of her…?"

Cassian knew he deserved the swat to the head that Azriel gave him. He barked a laugh, throwing his head back.

"I won't touch her, Cass," he said. "And neither will you if I have something to say about it." 

"And if she asks you to?" Cassian asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "You can't deny pretty little Marz, can you, Az?"

The shadows around Azriel's shoulders were agitated, swirling and swishing around him in the morning sun. He did not seem amused, but there was a telling spark in his eyes that he was deep in his memories, perhaps remembering the last time he had touched her in such a way.

"She is too weak right now," Azriel said, holding Cassian's gaze. "I brought her here because she needed help."

"Always a good-doer," Cassian said, stretching his neck. "What happens when we have to leave? Does she come with us or does she stay here?"

"I don't know yet, Cass. But it will be up to her to decide that."

"Always a charmer."

Cassian paused, watching as Azriel prepared a tray of food to take.

"Who did it?" He asked, somber. "Her wings, I mean…"

Azriel sighed. "I don't know yet. I want to go looking, try to see if I can find any clues."

"But?"

"I don't want to leave her. Not yet."

Cassian cleared his throat. "Are the two of you mated?"

His brother stopped dead in his tracks, leaving the food tray on the table. "I… I don't know."

"Well, even if you aren't," Cassian said, standing up, "you care about her a lot. Perhaps it is time, Az, that you let Mor go. That you let go of whatever the sweet Elain made you feel. Maybe Marzia isn't what you want, but what you need."

Azriel didn't respond, but his eyes were downcast, his brows furrowed. Cassian knew him well enough to understand when he was done speaking on the matter.

"I'm just saying it is a possibility," he said, shrugging before he got up and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

Sunlight. His entire room was filled with it, covering every inch, every surface. He would have almost felt happy, if it hadn't been for the shadow of missing wings over his bed. Marzia was still blissfully asleep, illuminated by the sun rays that covered everything else. Even her face, in dreams, was peaceful. A stark contrast from what he knew she felt.

_He had been patrolling around the Steppes, making quick work of the perimeter, when he felt something sharp go through him. It was a feeling, a premonition, that something was wrong. He turned and turned and followed blindly to what he seemed to think was the source. His shadows found two… beings… perhaps lesser fae, lurking; covered by the tangy copperiness of blood. So he followed that, too, and felt his stomach tighten in response. Illyrian wings, ripped apart. Cleaved from someone's back with such brutality and force that any hope of survival was low. He steered in that direction, as if guided by an invisible tether. The wings were thrown haphazardly, chopped off at the point where they grew out of. Bones were splintered, membranes slashed, talons broken. He felt a phantom ache go through his own back, an echo of what the Illyrian who had lost their wings had gone through. Still, there was no trace of said Illyrian. He threw his shadows far and wide, searching for any clues. Then, as if an invisible hand reached out, he knew exactly where to go._

_The Illyrian in question had become a semi-conscious mess of blood and gore, rolled so tightly unto itself that anything other than the small size of the warrior was lost. He came closer, feeling something odd in his chest. Then, recognition flooded through him. He knew those shoulder-length curls, that too-big shirt._

_"Marzia!" He said, kneeling in front of her._

_Her eyes were open, staring into nothing. Her breathing slow, ragged. Her skin clammy and cold, no matter where he touched. He took her hands, her face, willing all his strength to center on her, on making her better. His siphons began working on her injuries, to at least cover them and stop the bleeding while he reached a healer. The cut on her cheekbone was easy, the slash on her arm too, but the arrowhead poking through her thigh was tricky, and he didn't know how to begin working on the two gashes of open flesh that had ripped through her shoulders and back. It had been more than a vicious attack - this was a personal vendetta._

_As his power began to deplete, covering each major injury, her eyes began to clear. She was still pale as a corpse when he finally felt content with his work and willed himself to fly her to Velaris for Madja to see her. He faltered, slightly, when he picked her up in his arms tenderly, and she blanched even more._

_"Are you going to save me?" The voice -_ her _voice - said, chilling him._

_"Yes," he said, reassuringly, even if he didn't know whether she would survive the flight to Velaris._

_There, nestled in his arms, there was someone he thought had been lost to him many years before. But fate had decided to reunite them, and he would be damned not to listen this time. He had already denied her once, it wouldn't happen again._

◇◇◇

He watched her from his desk, jumping when Marzia stirred awake, blinking away the last few rays of sunshine that filtered through the open windows. Azriel's hands found her quickly, holding on to her cheeks to ground her into her reality - she was safe.

Her yellow-honey eyes found his amber ones, and she let out a breath. He removed his hands and sat next to her on the bed. Something about the way she held herself was still off. He wondered if he would do the same if he suddenly found himself without his wings.

"How…?" He began to ask, unsure about how to continue. Asking her how she was or how she felt was useless. He knew both answers already.

"Will it stop hurting?" She asked.

She was kneeling on his bed, next to him, pulling on the sleeves of her borrowed sweater. He took her hands to stop them from pulling too much, careful not to cause any strain to the injuries on her back. He had to thank the Cauldron for Madja, who had done her best to stop the bleeding and heal the gaping wounds. However, there wasn't much she could do to avoid permanent scarring on her back. 

"Yes," he said. "It will stop."

"But I am never getting my wings back." 

The words came out strangled, whispered under her breath, half a statement, half a question.

"No," he said softly.

She tried to get up then, but quickly lost her balance and swayed dangerously towards the floorboards. He caught her before she even hit the ground, until they were both touching knees, face to face. The smell of salty water hit his nostrils.

"I'm nothing without them," she muttered, sniffing. "I'm _no one_ if I don't have my wings."

"You will learn to survive without them," he said. "I swear it."

She wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of the sweater she wore, drying off her tears. "Easy for you to say when you haven't been mutilated like me."

She got up with a stumble and threw herself on the bed. She pulled the blankets up until she was barely visible. He knew that he wasn't welcome any more. 

◇◇◇

He let Cassian punch him until he almost passed out from exhaustion. In the sparring ring, he knew that he and his brother were almost matched, but he needed to loosen up. He was angry, desperate to be on good terms with her, and she acted like a spoiled child. He knew that he had to go back to his room and face her, but he wanted to delay the moment as much as he could. 

Marzia baffled him. She had done so from the moment he met her, since that first time he saw her at that Illyrian camp to the moment where she dropped her clothes in front of him, and beyond. 

She was sitting on his bed, staring off into the darkness of the city around her. 

"What is this place?" She asked.

"Velaris."

His answer came clipped, curt. Let it show her he was angry, confused.

"Where is Velaris?"

"In the Night Court."

"Is it a city?" 

"Yes."

She nodded, pensive.

"You don't talk much, do you, Azriel?"

His name on her tongue made something flutter in his chest, and lower. Still, he opted to stay quiet.

He began undoing his Illyrian leathers, removing bits and pieces of armor as he went and dropped them in various places. He was aware of her eyes on him, but not even his shadows could guess her intentions. 

He escaped towards the attached washroom, leaving her alone again. He removed the rest of his clothes and sank on the tub to soak up his aching body. He couldn't hear anything coming from his room or her. 

When he returned, wearing a fresh pair of trousers and a clean shirt, he found her right in front of him, hands on her hips and perfectly balanced. Knowing her, she had spent the entire day working on that.

"I want to see it," she said.

His eyebrows rose in a silent question. 

"The city. I want to see it."

He moved past her, taking in her big sweater and leggings. She looked small and frail without her wings, more a mix between a human and a High Fae, than an Illyrian. But, at least, she held herself upright and didn't seem too weakened.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his hand on the doorknob.

"Yes," she said, perking up. "I can."

He nodded. "Come."

It didn't matter that he was tired, or that he'd been angry with her just minutes before. If she wanted to see Velaris, he would take her.


	5. Chapter 5

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

There was a side of Marzia that he didn't know or understand. Until that day at the Steppes, he hadn't seen her in almost two hundred years, and the youth she was at the Illyrian camp was very different from the female who now walked in front of him. Every step she took was perhaps a bit stumbly but filled with a strength that he didn't know she possessed.

"Of all the places I have seen," she said. "This is perhaps the most beautiful."

He nodded, making a mental note of every bit of information she shared. He wanted to get to know her, even if that meant following her around the city while she aimlessly explored it.

Velaris was alive at night, filled with all different types of fae. The sky had turned a deep violet, speckled with stars as far as their eyes could see. Marzia hadn't been too interested in the jewels or fancy clothing, not even in the artists and their quarters, but she stopped every now and then to look at something and then resume. What she looked at was a mystery to him.

In the Palace of Bone and Salt, she stopped for a little while longer, swaying slightly in the breeze. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and resumed her walk. He realized, perhaps too soon, that she was making a turn back to the house, and he still hadn't said a word to her during their time in the city. 

"Tell me," he said.

She spun around to face him, the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Surrounded by the stars and the beauty of Velaris, she looked like she belonged there, trailing a hand over the bridge along the Sidra. 

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Everything," he said. "Why you pause. Where you were."

A shadow fell across her face, making the beginnings of her smile disappear from her features. 

"Many memories. Many places," she said sharply

" _Tell me._ "

Something about his tone softened her sudden harshness, and he knew that she was very far away when her mouth opened again. 

"When I left the camp, I was still too young to go too far. I knew how to hunt, so I knew I wouldn't starve. I knew how to fight, somewhat, so I knew I wouldn't die so easily. But, for at least four or five years, I stayed in the Illyrian mountains. I was too afraid to go elsewhere, and too unfamiliar with the rest of Prythian to simply go and explore. I even came back once, to the camp, a few days after you and Cassian had left - they had resorted back to their old ways, and so I left without looking back.

"I traveled far and wide, first within the confines of the Night Court, and then further into Prythian's territory. I spent at least a decade in each of the Courts, exploring all I could find. I ate as much as I could afford, I dressed myself with rags or riches that I could buy - and soon, I began working as a mercenary." She paused. "My wings were a big help; they were menacing and powerful enough that I could travel everywhere I pleased, and they could get me as much money as I requested."

"What then?" He asked, finding a bench by the riverside. He sat down, patting the empty space next to him for her to take. He had noticed that her voice had faltered when she spoke about her wings.

"When I reached the borders of the Spring Court," she continued, taking the seat at his side. "I had two options in front of me. I could either fly to Hybern, or cross the Wall over to the human lands."

He looked up at her face, but her expression was unreadable. 

"I hope you didn't go to Hybern."

"I did," she said. "But not at that time. I decided to cross towards the human side."

"Worse?" He asked.

"I was a monster. A creature that came to kill and eat their children while they slept. They tried to chain me using heavy iron, but it was useless. As I took flight, an ash arrow pierced my left wing. They took it as a sign that the iron was working, but they still stabbed through the other wing with another arrow, just in case I tried to escape. I waited until they had all left, putting up a pathetic little show to appease them. That night, a boy came to see me. He couldn't have been older than ten years old, but the curiosity of having a fae so close to him won over him at the end.

"I was weak, of course, but not as much as I pretended. He sat there, in front of me, and asked me questions. Hundreds of them. Come morning, he told me he would find a way to free me. So, every day, he came to where they had chained me, to bring me food and keep me company. There were two little holes where the ash arrows had pierced, but they had long been gone, and the iron chains weren't strong enough to hold me, but I still stayed.

"A few years had passed until the moment I realized that I was no longer talking to a boy, but to a budding young man of great repute. One day, he simply came accompanied by some other boys, and they freed me. I became his own personal mercenary, then, among other things."

He didn't need her to say that she had shared the boy's bed.

"A few years later," she continued, "when he was nearing twenty-five, he became involved in a skirmish between his village and another. A single arrow bolt to his chest would have killed him instantly if I hadn't stopped it on time. After the battle was won, he dropped to his knees in front of me and asked me to be his wife." She took a pause to let out a sigh. "I refused to accept him, but yet he swore he would never love another creature as much as he loved me. His family soon deserted him, leaving him to live out the rest of his days isolated in a manor with me at his side. He never tired of me, not even as he grew older and I stayed forever unchanged. I asked him many times to find a wife, to have children, that I would be his paramour for as long as he lived. He never listened. Even his friends began to resent him, to fear me - they began to spread lies about me and him, instilling once again the fear of fae folk among humans, and erasing me from the memories of those in the village, convincing them that I had never existed at all.

"He died quietly in his sleep soon after his fiftieth birthday, during his usual afternoon nap. I dressed him in his finest, dressed myself as well in my old Illyrian leathers, and waited until night had fallen. Then, I snuck out of his rooms and used whatever little magic my father left in me to glamour the voices of his friends, so everyone would believe them when they said I never existed. After that, I fled back across the Wall, to Prythian. Once I arrived back, one of the High Lord's sentries found me and took me to the Spring Court's seat. I lied to him, told him I was lost, never revealing my excursion across the Wall. He accepted everything I told him."

"Tamlin is a fool if he believed you. Your scent must have given you away."

"I don't care if he is a fool. He let me go in peace, even if one of his emissaries advised him against it. I went to a small village in the Spring Court to recover and wash up, and a few weeks later, I left towards Hybern."

◇◇◇

As much as he wanted to know what came next in her story, the chilly late autumn night forced them to walk back towards the house. He knew, besides, that while his face had remained almost expressionless as she spoke, there was an evident distaste at the thought of her sharing the human male's bed, even if he had been dead for almost a century. She didn't talk during the walk back either, almost as quiet and taciturn as he was. He didn't know if it was because of the human male, or because of Hybern.

The house was quiet, empty, when they entered. They went to the kitchen, where he brewed a cup of tea for her, and he served some amber liqueur for himself. When her lips touched the steaming mug of tea, he felt a tingle all over his body - she had _mewled_ with happiness, much like she had done back in his tent all those years ago. 

"What happened in Hybern?" He asked.

"Not much. I didn't stay for more than a decade or two, but the atmosphere there was filled with hatred as far as I could see. I worked as a mercenary again, but this time I had lost the taste for it, and especially in such a place. I eventually decided to leave, return to Prythian, and then continue to the Fae lands on the continent."

"Did you encounter Amarantha while you were there?"

"Never in person, but I knew of her. She left Hybern halfway through my stay there, and she was already here in Prythian when I came back."

"Was your magic affected by her curse?"

"No. I was on the continent when she cursed Prythian."

 _So she was safe,_ he thought. _Good._

"What did you do on the continent?"

"I found honest jobs that didn't make a lot of money, but I was still fed and clothed. After moving around for a while, I settled in one of the warmer areas of the continent and stayed there until the curse on Prythian had been lifted."

"Did you come back then?"

"I did," she said, nodding. "I went back to the Illyrian mountains, planning to spend the rest of my life living in a cottage in the forest by myself. Then, one day, I spotted Cassian in the sky, leading a legion of warriors. He was preparing them for the war against Hybern, and I immediately became enamored with the idea of becoming a warrior again."

"Did you join us in the war?"

"I did, yes. I joined one of the less trained legions, and Cassian didn't notice that I was there."

"And me?"

"I didn't see you, and you didn't see me."

He nodded, trying to remember her face amongst the crowd. He came up empty-handed.

"I only fought in the battle at the Summer Court," she said. "Because I realized I had lost my thirst for battles and blood. I snuck out at night and came back to the mountains."

Finally, something that might give him a clue about whoever had cleaved her wings. If the captain of her legion had seen her leaving, maybe he had a reason to want her dead for being a deserter.

"You didn't leave the forest after that?"

"No," she said. "I had no reason to. I had shelter and food at my disposal."

"Your old camp?"

"Gone. Reduced to ashes."

"Cassian might have had something to do with that."

"Good."

They were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, her tea almost finished. 

"I might leave soon," he said.

"When?" She asked. 

"I don't know yet."

"Where will you go?"

He sighed, offering his hand for her to take. "To find who hurt you."

She nodded, taking his stretched hand.

"Will you bring them here?" She asked, voice raw.

"No. I will kill them on the spot."

She let out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling above. 

"Good," she said, nodding softly. "Let's go to bed."


	6. Chapter 6

◇◇◇

**_FEYRE_ **

Rhys was pacing around our room, both hands on his hips as he murmured to himself. 

"He can't just _go_ …"

"Rhys," I said. "Would you mind explaining what is happening?"

"It's Az, Feyre darling. He is leaving."

My eyes widened in shock. No wonder my mate was so agitated.

"Where is he going?" 

"To find whoever hurt Marzia," he said.

I slumped slightly. "Rhys, did you really think he wouldn't go find them?"

He shook his head, finally stopping.

"I knew he would. I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"Why not?" I asked. "I mean, she is -"

"We don't know for sure if they are mates."

I sighed, getting out of bed to finally start my day. Rhys was already fully dressed, perhaps because Azriel had come to speak to him earlier. 

"He is leaving at a critical time," he said. "We are still recovering after the war, and he is needed elsewhere…"

"Send someone else," I suggested. "You know that while she is here, his priorities will be with her."

He nodded, deep in thought. "Sometimes I am glad that you were human and that we hadn't met before we did."

"Why?"

"We fell in love very quickly, and while it took a while for our mating bond to snap, at least we knew each other, and we were together in close proximity."

"It's true," I agreed, noticing the fondness in his eyes.

"Even Cassian and Nesta have a different case," he continued. "They met and their bond didn't snap into place immediately, but they were still in close proximity. It was endurable for him, and her."

"But Azriel?"

"He began like Cassian, with her by her side but no bond. Then, he lost her for two hundred years. Now she is back, and there is still no bond."

"He must be losing his mind," I said. 

"He has endured centuries without his possible mate. Now, right within his reach, is the chance to prove himself with her."

"He won't waste it," I finished.

"And I shouldn't let him go alone," Rhys said. 

"But you have to, because you are needed here," I said, placing a hand on Rhys' own. 

He smiled softly, nodding, before he made his way out of our room.

◇◇◇

Azriel had already left by the time I went down to have breakfast. Rhys was nowhere in sight, either, which left me alone at the dining table. I ate peacefully, thinking about Marzia and Azriel, at the torture of their bond. I didn't know if I would have endured it as they had. 

A sudden sound startled me, and I looked up to find Marzia staring at me with big golden eyes. It had been almost three days since she had arrived, and she now looked much better than when I had seen her half naked in Azriel's bed.

"Come," I said. "You must be hungry."

She walked towards me slowly, swaying a bit. It was then I realized that she was _walking_ , against what Rhys said were Madja's expectations.

"I see you are walking," I said. "How-?"

"I practiced yesterday," she said, taking a seat across from me. "I wanted to see the city."

"Practiced?" I repeated. 

"I fell a lot because my body is not used to moving without my wings, but I managed to do it by the time evening arrived."

I blinked. "You fell, _on purpose_ , to be able to walk?"

"I wanted to see the city," she repeated, shrugging.

Marzia started reaching for some pastries before she filled up a cup of tea. As I watched her, I remembered my mate's words about her determination, and wondered if he knew that she could already keep herself balanced enough to walk. 

"You are the High Lord's wife, aren't you?" She asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling pleasantly. "My name is Feyre. I don't think we were properly introduced."

"We weren't," she said, stretching my hand with a smile. "My Lady," she added, bowing.

I thanked her with a small curtsy, pleased to see that she was polite and nice when not roughly woken up by an Illyrian.

"Did you speak with Azriel before he left this morning?" I asked her, mostly to keep the meal friendly and get to know her.

I had the feeling that she would be staying with us for a long time.

"I did, yes," she said. "He promised to bring me trophies."

"Trophies?" I asked, fearing that I already knew the answer. 

"Something he will take from those who hurt me."

"Like a finger?" I asked, swallowing.

"I asked for their heads."

I stared at her with big round incredulous eyes as she took a bite from one of the pastries and sighed contently.

"I'm joking," she said, smiling when she noticed my expression. "I am angry at the loss of my wings, and if he kills them, then so be it. But I don't have a taste for blood anymore."

A sudden ruckus removed us from our conversation, and Amren's voice came floating down the hall.

"I wish I _still_ had a taste for blood!" She announced. "Maybe I will have some of _yours,_ Morrigan!"

Her small figure was wrapped in a coat, and her ears and neck were glistening with new jewels, perhaps a gift from Prince Varian. It was more than evident that she was annoyed. 

"As if you could get close enough to draw blood," was Morrigan's reply, sounding much more amused than Amren.

"Don't test me," she said.

They both stopped at the entrance of the dining room when they saw Marzia.

"Who is the human?" Amren asked.

Marzia immediately bristled, her knuckles turning white as her hands closed around the armrests of the chair she occupied.

"Mor, Amren," I said, choosing to intervene before things could escalate. "This is Marzia. She isn't human, but half Illyrian and half High Fae." 

"Ah," Amren said. "Your ears were less pointy, that's all."

Marzia relaxed her hands but stayed in her place.

"Marzia, these are Amren and Morrigan, the second and third in command in the Night Court."

They all nodded, but a few meaningful glances were exchanged between Mor and Marzia.

To make matters worse, Amren opened her mouth again.

"You smell like Azriel," she said.

Now it was Morrigan's turn to bristle. 

"Pleased to have made your acquaintance," Marzia said, getting up. "But I must retire. I think my bandages need to be changed."

"I will ask either Nuala and Cerridwen to assist you, while the other goes to fetch Madja," I said. "You can wait for them in Azriel's room."

"Thank you," was all Marzia said before leaving, her tea and half-eaten pastry abandoned in the plate that had been in front of her.


	7. Chapter 7

◇◇◇

**_FEYRE_ **

Amren was looking at Marzia's silhouette as she left, one of her eyebrows quirked in questioning.

"Who is she _really_?" She asked.

Mor began to remove her coat, leaving it in the back of a chair. She sat on that same chair, grabbing a pastry.

"I told you," I said. "She is a guest in this house. Azriel brought her after she was attacked."

"Azriel did more than just _bring_ her if she stinks of him," Amren said, shrugging before sitting down in the chair opposite from Mor.

"Attacked?" Mor asked, drawing attention away from Amren.

"Yes," I said, letting out a sigh. "Someone cleaved her wings."

Mor choked on something, splattering it all over the table. Amren slowly lowered the pastry she had been holding.

" _Cleaved_?" Amren repeated, blinking. "She used to have wings, and someone _cut_ them right off her back?"

"Yes," I said, grimacing a little. "That's why she wobbles a little when she walks."

"How long has she been here?" Mor asked. "We were here last week, and we didn't see her."

"Az brought here about three days ago."

"She can't be _walking_ if her wings were cut three days ago," Amren said, shaking her head. "It usually takes a lot longer than that, if they even survive."

I shrugged, taking a sip of my tea. "Rhys says she is very determined."

Both of my friends let out a sigh but turned towards their food to finish their breakfast. Mor's eyebrows were furrowed, and she kept picking at her food, tearing it apart more than eating it. Amren, instead, seemed to be deep in her thoughts.

"I wouldn't want to be her," she said. "To be mutilated in such a way, to be broken apart like that… I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"And she is half Illyrian," I added.

"Even worse," she continued. "Imagine if someone did the same to Cassian or Rhysand."

She didn't mention Azriel, but the three of us shuddered all the same. The wings of an Illyrian warrior were sacred, the most vital and important part of themselves. To lose that must be unimaginable.

"Poor her," Amren said. "And to think that only two days ago she was whole…"

"How was she found?" Mor asked. 

"Azriel was patrolling around the Steppes when he discovered her. After he found her, he brought her here to us. I think she was almost dead when they got here, and Rhys opened the door for them. I saw her a few hours later when Cassian found out and he went to look for her."

"Why?" Amren asked, "Why was he looking for her?"

Now this was the part that I didn't want to talk about in front of Mor. I shifted in my seat, rearranging my crossed legs.

"Well," I said, "Apparently they knew each other from before."

"And why would Cassian look for her? Did she do something back then? Back when they met each other?"

"Amren, I don't know. All I know is that she knew Azriel and Cassian, and that something happened between her and Az that made Cassian really upset."

"Feyre," Mor said. "If you're holding back because of me, you don't have to."

"Azriel and her fucked, didn't they?" Amren asked. "And Cassian was jealous…"

I nodded, unable to say much more. I didn't want to upset Mor - she was already pretty altered, but I couldn't say anything in front of Amren.

"Well, it's not the first time that they argue over a girl," Amren said, shrugging.

◇◇◇

Amren left a little while after that, which left me alone with Mor. I didn't know what she was going to ask me about Marzia.

"Does he care for her?" she asked, looking down at her plate. 

"I don't know," I answered. "I think he does, at least."

"Where is he now?" She asked. 

"He left," I said. "He said he needed to find those who hurt her." 

"Does he love her?"

"I don't know. Me and Rhys think that they might be mates, but their bond hasn't snapped into place yet."

"Is she good to him?"

"She seems to be. I haven't seen them interact a lot. But I know that last night, he took her to the city."

Mor nodded softly, playing absentmindedly with her manicured fingers.

"Did she learn to walk without her wings, just so he could take her to the city?"

"It's very possible, yes."

Mor sighed, placing her head between both of her hands.

"You know that I just want him to be happy, right?"

"Yes," I said, "I know."

"And he can't be happy with me. There is nothing I can offer him that would make him happy."

"I know," I said.

"As long as she makes _him_ happy, I'm happy too."

"Then you must tell him," I said. "Because from the little I have seen, he cares for her. But he might not do anything unless you tell him that you won't suffer."

"I might not even have to tell him if the bond snaps in place," Mor said.

"I think that even if the bond snaps in place, he would like your approval."

At that, Mor stayed quiet, nodding softly, but adding nothing more.

◇◇◇

It was already nighttime when Rhys came back home and found me in our bedroom, sitting on our bed.

"Rough day?" He asked me.

"Mor saw Marzia."

He let out a long sigh. "I can't see how that would have a happy ending."

"It didn't. She says that if Marzia makes him happy, then she is happy too."

"My cousin needs to figure out what she wants in life," he said. "She can't expect Azriel to love her forever."

"Especially when she doesn't love him back."

He nodded, taking a seat next to me. He sighed, seemingly exhausted.

"Mor needs to let Azriel live his life," he said. "He will always care for her and love her, but he deserves to love and be loved by someone, too."

"And Marzia can be that someone, while Mor can't."

Rhys nodded, finally spreading himself out on the bed, letting his wings open up and fall with exhaustion. I nestled next to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

"What can we do?" I asked. "To help, I mean."

"Maybe Mor and Marzia can talk," he said, shrugging. "Perhaps, if she sees that Marzia is good, she will talk to Azriel and give her blessing."

"I can try to arrange that," I said, already thinking of ways to accomplish the task.

"And we also have to wait for Azriel to come back, and pray to the Cauldron that the mating bond, if it exists at all, snaps into place soon," he finished, too tired to continue talking about it.

We had a plan, at least - but it could wait until later, after we were both rested.


	8. Chapter 8

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

The house was quiet when he came back, with the lights turned off and everyone tucked safely in their beds. Even Marzia, whose unbearable pain must have started to wear off, was calmly asleep on his bed, surrounded by soft pillows and blankets.

He'd had no luck. The place where he'd found her was almost unrecognizable when he came back, after a thin layer of fresh snow had blanketed everything. He hadn't even been able to find her torn wings. There was no trace of whoever had cut them, either. The two creatures he'd sensed before had been smart enough that not even his shadows could find a clue of who they were.

He wondered how he would tell her about being unsuccessful. He wondered if she would forgive him.

He walked past her and into his attached washroom, ready to ditch his Illyrian leathers and take a long bath. The moment he was fully naked in the tub, he heard the door opening.

"Azriel?" Marzia asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he said, not wanting to turn around and face her. 

"Did you find them?"

He took a deep, calming breath. Then, he shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

Her feet started moving, padding softly across the stone floor until she reached his side. He stiffened almost imperceptibly as she kneeled, which put their eyes at the same level. Her head cocked to one side, studying him. She was wearing one of his bigger shirts, which left her tan legs in full display.

"Will you try again?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied.

She nodded, moving one of her hands to cup his cheek. Her eyes were darker in the dimly lit room, very similar to his - but there was a sadness in them that he didn't feel.

"I'll wait for you in your bed," she said. "It's cold."

"All you have known is cold. You are Illyrian."

"Not anymore," she said, moving to get up. "Not without my wings."

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, fast as lightning. Her eyes widened; her pulse quickened. She stopped moving completely, keeping her eyes fixated on his. That sadness he had seen there, had been replaced my something else - panic.

"You may not have your wings," he said, releasing her. "But that doesn't make you useless."

She squared her jaw, scrambling to get up and balling her fists at her side as she stomped out of the washroom. Azriel let out a long sigh. He had dealt with his trauma before, but she was something else entirely. 

He finished his bath and dried off, wearing only a pair of pants when he came back to his room. Marzia was sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of his bed. She was not facing him, but instead she faced a full-length mirror in front of her. She must have seen him coming, but still said nothing. He saw, however, that the collar of his shirt was sliding from her shoulders.

"I must buy you new clothes," he said.

His voice seemed to pull her from her thoughts. "Sure," she agreed. "We can go soon."

"Tomorrow," he said. "After that, we can practice sparring."

She whirled around, narrowing her eyes. " _Sparring_? I already know how to fight."

"No. You are not the same. You need to practice again."

He sank on the bed next to her, turning his back on her seated form. It wasn't until a few minutes later that she did the same, facing the opposite direction. Like that, they drifted off to sleep.

◇◇◇

Early the next morning, when he cracked his eyes open, he felt Marzia's presence already in the attached washroom. When she walked out, she was fully naked. He closed his eyes quickly, still pretending to be asleep while she rummaged through his clothes and found something to wear. A big sweater that she tied around her waist was all she chose, as well as her old boots and a pair of long winter socks. 

"When you stop drooling," she said. "I'll be waiting for you to have breakfast."

After she had left his bedroom, he groaned and got up, wondering _how_ in the Cauldron's name did she know that he was awake. He sighed when he entered the kitchen, finding her talking pleasantly to Nuala and Cerridwen. A nod was all he gave as a salute.

"There's tea and bread if you'd like," Nuala offered. 

"Thanks," he said. "But we are running late."

Marzia gave the two females an apologetic nod but followed after him just the same. Out in the streets, she shivered slightly, but kept her discomfort hidden as they walked to the city. None of them brought up what happened in his bedroom.

The Riverfront house had a wonderful view of the Sidra, but it was a bit far away from the Palace of Thread and Jewels. They kept quiet all the way there, and he noticed that she still wobbled a bit when she walked. 

"Who is going to pay for this?" she suddenly asked, not turning to face him.

"I am," he said. "You can buy whatever is necessary."

"What do you recommend?"

He knew that she was trying to make him fall into a trap, to admit what he'd seen earlier. "Illyrian leathers," he said.

"I didn't know they sold those in the city."

He shrugged, but deep down, he knew that she was smiling. He walked with her to a few shops, but never saw what she got for herself. He was surprised, however, at how economical all the tabs were. 

"Are you sure you are buying enough?" He asked after the fourth shop.

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

"It's very cheap."

"I don't want you to spend all your money on me."

He struggled not to laugh. "Marzia, you could buy _everything_ in these stores, and I would still have money."

She studied him for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"Take me to buy Illyrian leathers," she said, shrugging.

"Later," he said. "Buy the rest of your clothes."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, tightly holding herself. "I finished," she said.

"No," he said. "You haven't."

"I bought sweaters and leggings, some pants, tunics, shirts, and socks," she said. "That's enough."

"No gowns? No pretty dresses? No underwear?" 

"You enjoyed seeing me without them this morning."

He let the comment slide.

"You will need them," he continued. "As well as shoes, boots, and coats."

"I don't live in this city. What use will I have for a _pretty dress_ when I go back to the mountains?"

"You might want to come back here, to visit," he said, shrugging.

She rolled her eyes, keeping her feet firmly planted upon the stones on the ground.

"I don't know anyone here."

"You know me _and_ Cassian."

He shrugged and walked past her, not waiting for her to reply before he grabbed her elbow and dragged her along to the next shop. With her back turned to it, he pushed her softly inside and waited outside for her.

Her grin was positively wicked when she came out of the store a while later. The bag on her hands wasn't big or heavy, and when he entered to pay the bill, it wasn't expensive either, but he suddenly had the urge to know what she bought at the undergarments store.

She didn't let him see the pair of gowns that she bought next, or the three dresses that she chose either, but he didn't miss the slippers or the boots that she got after, or the cozy black coat that she bought at last. 

"Are you happy now?" She asked, hands on her hips.

"Yes," he said, "better. Is there anything else you need?"

"Illyrian leathers, and a dagger."

He nodded. "Let's go."

◇◇◇

Back in the Riverfront house, Azriel gave her some space so she could arrange her new clothes. The wardrobe in his bedroom was pretty much unused, since most of his clothes were in the House of Wind or in the mountains. He could fly to get them if he needed them. Marzia could take up as much space as she wanted, since he only needed a couple of drawers for his things. 

An hour or so later, she came down for lunch, wearing a pair of black leggings and a deep burgundy sweater. 

"Are you happy that I'm not stealing your clothes anymore?" She asked.

"You didn't look bad in them," he said, shrugging.

She rolled her eyes but sat next to him, pulling a plate of roasted vegetables closer to herself. The rest of the meal was carried out in peace, even if Cassian joined them for a while at the end. Despite of their earlier encounters, they were both civil. 

"Are you ready?" He asked her a little while after they had finished eating.

"Yes," she said. "I need to find some things and we'll go."

She got up and left, Cassian's eyes trailing after her.

"Another romantic stroll along the Sidra?" Cassian asked, all fake innocence.

"I want her to spar."

Cassian nodded, considering it. "That's not a bad plan. Where are you taking her?"

"The Hewn City."

His brother's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. "Are you crazy?" He asked. "Did you consider that you will have to _fly_ her there and that is a touchy subject now?"

"We'll see how it goes," he said.

Cassian let out a puff of air in frustration but said nothing else. When Marzia came back, having left the sweater behind in favor of a sturdy tunic, she also carried her new dagger strapped to her thigh.

"Good luck," Cassian said to no one in particular, before walking away.

"What is his problem?" She asked.

"It's Cassian."

She shrugged, seemingly in agreement.

Instead of heading to the city, Azriel took her upstairs, to the rooftop where they'd landed after he rescued her.

"Are we going to practice here?" She asked.

"No. We are going elsewhere."

"How will we get there if we are on the rooftop?"

"Flying."

He sensed her stiffening beside him and saw how her jaw squared and her gaze hardened.

"I never took you for a funny guy."

The shadows, his constant companions, felt the incoming danger. Anger was radiating off of her in waves, rolling themselves onto a tight coil that could snap at any moment. Maybe Cassian had been right.

"Marzia," he said. "Do you want to get better?"

"Yes, but not at the expense of you mocking me."

"That was never my intention."

"Then what was it?" She asked. "It seems like your intentions included me being very docile about the idea of flying."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, you have," she said. "I'm not going to wherever it is you wanted to take me."

He yanked her arm, perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended, and pressed her against his body. Trapped there, he enveloped her in shadows, and instead of flying as he had intended, he winnowed them out of the house and into the darkness of his makeshift night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that I took so long in putting up this chapter! My job really got in the way, but now I am free enough to continue with my regular posting schedule on Mondays! I apologize if you were waiting for so long...


	9. Chapter 9

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

He landed softly on the open top of the Palace above the Hewn City. He wanted to be sure of his footing before he pulled back his shadows and received her onslaught. Instead, all he got was a simple shove and an unreadable expression painted everywhere on her face. It was, however, an expression he had seen before - many years ago, back in her Illyrian camp.

It was not the first time that he had ever caught her staring at him, but she had looked at him like that before, just before she had gone into his tent and dropped her clothes in front of him. 

"Everything alright?" He asked.

"I hate you," she said, shaking.

"Good. Use that anger to face me."

He saw how her hand twitched at her side where her dagger was strapped.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"I winnowed us in," he said. "It was faster than flying."

"But you _intended_ on flying?"

"Yes."

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and her eyes narrowed. 

"Why?"

"I thought you would enjoy it."

"Why would I enjoy something that I will never be able to do again?"

"You can fly, just not by yourself."

He knew he was taunting her, riling her up to get a reaction in order to spar against him.

"I won't let _anyone_ fly me _anywhere._ "

"Why not?"

"Because it's not the same. I won't be able to feel safe flying with someone else."

"Not even me?"

"No, not even you."

"And Cassian?"

"I don't care about Cassian!"

"And what do you care about?"

She stopped moving, even her hand froze over the dagger strapped to her thigh. He wondered if he had gone too far when he saw her bite her lips and shrug noncommittally. 

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said, taking a step forward. 

Marzia didn't reply. She turned around, away from him, and stared out of the big open windows that surrounded them. She stayed there, very still, when he came closer to her and stood at her side.

"I haven't cared about many things for several decades," she said. "I know I cared about you and my training centuries ago, I know I cared about my job when I was a mercenary, and I know I cared for Henry until he died in the human lands. But something I definitely still cared about was my wings."

"That's why I want you to train, to be better."

"And your _brilliant_ idea was using your wings, the most important part of myself, to bring me here?"

"I - I'm sorry."

"Keep your apologies to yourself, Azriel," she said, finally turning to face him. "I don't need them, or your pity, or your _training._ "

"Fine," he said softly, defeated. "If you wish, I can winnow us back to the house."

She didn't move or react to his words, she just stood there, staring out into the afternoon around them. It wasn't too late, but the sun was beginning to set - a perk of autumn.

"Never take me flying again," she said. 

He nodded, locking his shoulders in place. Before she could say anything else, he wrapped his shadows comfortingly around her, and took them back to the safety of the house.

◇◇◇

The next few days were difficult. Azriel found it hard to even be in the same bedroom as her, since she would barely talk to him. Once, he overheard her speaking with Cassian about training, and how she politely declined the invitation. He felt her slipping from his grasp and started to fear that she was losing her will to live.

Marzia wouldn't talk to him, she wouldn't even leave his room to eat. He always brought a tray upstairs, and she had barely touched it by the time he'd come back. He had Rhysand asking him for help, but he didn't have the strength to leave her - not when he could easily not find her when he came back. The whole thing seemed to be consuming both of them. 

He needed help, and desperately.

"Cassian?" He asked after dinner one day, shifting his feet. "What can I do about Marzia?"

"She is still walking around half-dead?" Cassian asked.

"Yes."

Cassian rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

"Have you tried asking her what she needs?"

"No. She won't answer."

"You can't know that," Cassian said. "But maybe you could try something different."

"Like what?" 

"Give her something… some jewelry, or a kiss… something that will make her want to talk to you again."

"No."

"Az, you have to do _something_ if you want her to talk to you," Cassian said.

"Not a gift _or_ a kiss."

"All I am saying is that those would work," he said, shrugging. He paused for a second, letting out a loud sigh. "Do you want me to speak with her?"

"She doesn't care about you."

Cassian put a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt. "In that case, maybe she doesn't need me talking to her."

Azriel just glared at him, unblinking and unimpressed.

"Listen, Az," he said. "If you want her to talk to you again, you have to apologize. Taking her flying was a _huge_ mistake. Tell her you are sorry, give her something nice, go back to normality. That's all."

In the end, he had to listen to Cassian.

He went to the Palace of Thread and Jewels, looking for something - anything - to get her. It wasn't easy. She was a female that he barely knew. Buying for Amren, who liked extravagance, was easy. But buying for someone whose tastes were a mystery was almost impossible.

By the time he came back to the house, he felt heavy with dread. He didn't want to go upstairs to his room and find her there. He didn't want to give her what he bought her, just because he felt like it was a mistake. However, his bedroom was empty. Her scent, which clung to his bedsheets, intoxicating him, led him away from the bedroom. He followed the smell of pine needles and honey towards one of the many open balconies that came with Feyre's design of the house.

Marzia was standing, steady and calm, surrounded by his friends and family. She was laughing with Cassian, engaged in a conversation with Feyre, while Amren and Rhysand listened. 

She looked like she belonged there, among them, laughing. It was that same feeling that had invaded him when he saw her walking along the Sidra. 

"Az!" Rhysand said, pulling him from his thoughts as he stood by the doorframe. "Where were you? We wanted you to join us earlier."

"I was out in the city," he simply said.

Cassian threw him a knowing look, winking. The gesture didn't go unnoticed for Marzia, who watched the exchange with an odd look. She didn't say anything, however, not even when he walked over and stood at her side. 

It didn't matter how much time had passed; she didn't seem to be tired. Very casually, somewhere in the middle of a conversation, she had placed a hand over his knee. When he didn't move, and neither did she, they continued as if nothing had changed. Finally, when Feyre became too tired to stay, the group disbanded. Rhys followed after his mate, while Cassian and Amren announced their plans to go to the city. The invitation was extended to them as well, but Marzia excused herself and so did he. 

Back in their bedroom, he became nervous. The little jewelry box hung heavy within the pocket of his coat, and he noticed that she had gone back to silence.

"What were you doing in the city today?" she suddenly asked.

"I went to buy you something, as an apology."

"An apology?" She asked. "What-"

"What I did was wrong," he explained. "I shouldn't have done it."

"You already said that," she said.

"I know," he said, pulling the little box out of his pocket. "But you should hear it again." He handed her the box. "This is for you."

She blinked a few times before she reached for the box hesitantly. She held it in her hands for a second, and then opened the lid. 

The thin chain was delicate and very finely made. It wasn't flashy, or expensive, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. 

A simple gift, no charms or anything else, just a continuous link of loops that joined together with a golden clasp. With her hands still wrapped around it, examining it, she remained silent, looking down at it.

"It's a very nice gift," she said after a minute. "You shouldn't have-"

"I wanted to," he said. "For my indiscretion."

She looked up then, locking their gazes. 

"I want us to try training again," she said. "Maybe you are right. Maybe I need it to feel better."

He nodded, keeping his excitement from showing too much. "Whenever you'd like."

"Maybe tomorrow, or the day after?" She offered. "Just don't take me flying."

That night, after reaching an agreement about when they would train and how they would get there, they fell asleep in each other's arms again.

◇◇◇

The following morning, he winnowed back to the Hewn City with her. In the sparring ring, he realized that she wasn't a bad fighter at all, and that the years apart had honed her skills a lot, but there were still a few things that she could improve. Azriel knew that the first thing she needed to work on was her balance. The loss of her wings made her clumsy, unused to her new weight.

"Finding your balance is key," he said, offering his hand for her to take as she kneeled on the ground.

The morning was bright and crisp around them, the breeze barely rustling the curtains around them.

"I know that," she grumbled. "But I am still getting used to how _new_ this is."

"Fair," he said. "We can continue working on it."

He pulled her up with ease, bringing her to her feet once again. However, her tiredness and lack of balance made her lose her footing again, and she fell forward - only to be caught by his chest and arms. 

As she looked up, honey finding amber, he felt a rush of heat go through him. He was suddenly a few centuries younger, and Marzia was a fickle youngling standing naked in the middle of his tent. He wanted to kiss her now, much like he had done back then. It was as if his entire self was drawn to her.

The morning sun was warm around them, despite of the growing cold of the autumnal season. It was completely different from the last time they had kissed, but he was welcoming it anyway.

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and hooked it over the slight point of her ear. His other hand cupped her cheek, and he could almost see the invitation to close the gap written in her eyes. 

Then, citrus and cinnamon reached his nostrils. He turned around quickly, finding Mor behind them. Her eyes were wide, but she didn't seem shocked or upset.

"Don't stop on my account," she said. "I just came to check if everything was under control."

"We are training," Azriel said, stepping away from Marzia. "It's nothing that can get out of control."

"I know," Mor said, still with her eyes glued on them.

Mortified, he watched as Mor retreated, going for the stairs. He was conflicted. He didn't like that Mor caught him like that, almost about to kiss Marzia as if his feelings for her had never mattered to him.

"Let's go back," Marzia said, pulling him from his thoughts. "It's late and… I'm tired."

He knew it was a lie, but he agreed nonetheless, winnowing them back to the Riverfront house.


	10. Chapter 10

◇◇◇

**_MORRIGAN_ **

She couldn't lie. For centuries now, she had been known as Truthteller, a female of remarkable gifts that allowed her to be transparent and honest. Now, a glaring truth shone above her, and she could not deny it.

If the mate bond between Azriel and Marzia had not snapped yet, it was sure to happen at any given time. Based on what her eyes had seen, they were already beginning to _feel_ each other.

Deep down, it made her happy to see that Az had found someone that could love him in the way that he deserved. 

He was her brother, but he loved her - and she didn't love him in the same way.

Having Marzia near him, someone who could be his possible mate, was something of great benefit for her. Feyre's words, however, about Azriel wanting her approval, still haunted her.

She didn't want to interfere, because if she did, and the bond never snapped, Azriel would be heartbroken from both sides. 

She turned over on her big bed in her estate, staring at the ceiling. She had seen something, _felt_ something, that she knew she could not understand yet.

It was very similar to how Rhys had looked at Feyre while she was still in the Spring Court - longing, and love.

◇◇◇

Upon returning to Velaris, Morrigan had made up her mind. She would, at Feyre's insistence and her own choice, be spending time getting to know Marzia.

The Riverfront house was bustling with activity when she arrived. The males were preparing to spend some time with the Illyrian clans in the mountains, while the females stayed behind to deal with the diplomatic aspects of keeping the peace. In the middle of the chaos, she saw Marzia, and took her chance.

"Care for a walk?" She asked.

Marzia's face fell a little, but she nodded. The confusion on her brow was evident, but she followed her along to one of the many balconies overlooking the Sidra. There, Morrigan steadied herself before the spoke.

"I know we haven't talked a lot, but-"

"Azriel talked a lot about you, back when I met him," Marzia said, interrupting her. "He said that he loved you, and Cassian punched him in the gut for it."

Mor let out a laugh, imagining the absurdity of the scene that the younger female described. "That does sound like them," she agreed.

"Do you love him back?" Marzia asked.

"I do, but in the same way that Cassian loves him - like a brother."

Something in Marzia's posture was stiff upon hearing those words, but she still nodded softly.

"Does he know that now?"

Morrigan shook her head. "No, I haven't told him."

Both females regarded each other for a few minutes, before Marzia sighed and sat down in one of the outdoor chairs of the balcony. The breeze was growing cooler as the days passed, now nearing the middle of the season. Mor took a seat across from her, willing to listen to whatever the small female had to say.

"When I met Azriel," Marzia said. "I knew that his heart belonged to someone else. I even knew that it was you, for who wouldn't love The Morrigan… However, I also wanted him - I was young and I was stupid and I was reckless, but Mother above, how I wanted him.

"It wasn't long before everyone realized that I was staring, and that my stares were all but innocent. I began to take any opportunities that I had to be near him, and he rejected them all... Then, there was the other _thing_."

"What thing?" Mor asked.

"My Aunt was a Seer… and she told me that the shadows would always keep me safe. I told a friend, and she told Cassian…"

"And Cassian, of course, told Azriel."

Marzia nodded, wringing her hands together. 

"Azriel was quieter than usual, but my stares were returned. And the shadows began to keep me safe, everywhere I looked. Even then, I knew that I had to leave before the others tried to clip my wings. When he left, I'd be vulnerable."

"No more shadows to protect you," Mor said, nodding.

Marzia sighed, looking up towards the sky. "If I was going to lose my maidenhead with someone, it had to be him. I didn't trust anyone else to do it. He was the only male in that camp that didn't see me as a place to spend one night and then forget."

Somewhere deep down, Morrigan understood. She had been in a similar position, but she had chosen Cassian instead. They both offered them something different, something that wouldn't make them regret their decision in the long run. 

"Did he know?" Morrigan asked. "Did you tell Azriel that he was your first?"

"Do you think he would have touched me if he knew?"

Mor nodded, biting her lip. "Of course, he wouldn't."

"I had to trick him, show up naked in his tent, pray to the gods that he wouldn't realize… and I fooled him for a bit, or at least he let me believe that."

"What did he do when he realized?"

"Followed after me. I had already left, but he flew around until he found me, and asked me to stay."

"But you didn't."

"I couldn't… It wouldn't be fair to him. I needed to grow up, to see the world, and then, maybe, come back."

Letting out a sigh, Mor placed one of her hands over Marzia's knee. "He told you that he would wait for you, didn't he?"

"Yes, of course. But I didn't believe him."

"You unwillingly connected yourself to him," Mor said. "When you went to his tent and willingly let him take your maidenhead."

"I know that now. I thought he just felt guilty."

Finally, with her heart on her sleeve, Morrigan asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of her mind since she had first seen her. "Are you and Az _mated_?"

Marzia let out a soft nervous laugh. "No, we aren't. But there is a strong chance we might be, eventually. My aunt told me so, when she said that shadows would protect me."

"Does he know this?"

"Yes," Marzia said, nodding.

Mor leaned back on her chair slightly. This changed things. If Marzia and Azriel were mates but their bond had yet to snap, there was a chance that he would reject her based on whether he thought he had a chance with her. She couldn't rob him of that.

"I will speak with Az," she said. "He deserves to be happy, and I can't give him that. But you can."

"None of us know that for sure."

In a quick move, Mor leaned forward, taking Marzia's hands. "I've known Azriel for many years. I know about his past and I know about his dreams, but I also know about you in the same way that you knew about me."

Marzia stared at her, dumbfounded.

"I can assume that Cassian had something to do with how we both found out," Mor continued. "Because we both know that Azriel wouldn't share such private information. But the truth remains - he cares for you, truly and deeply. If he didn't, he wouldn't have risked bringing you here so you could heal."

"Do you really think so?"

"Beyond a doubt. Cauldron, he lets you inside of his room. That, by itself, should be proof enough that he trusts you and enjoys your company."

Marzia nodded, but the shadow of doubt still clouded her gaze. 

"He must feel it too," Mor whispered. "That connection between the two of you. And if I can push him in that direction a bit further, I will gladly do so."

◇◇◇

It wouldn't be until a few days later that Morrigan found the chance to sit down and speak with Azriel. Something was always happening. In the meantime, however, she had gotten to know Marzia a bit better, finding her to be a very clever female, knowledgeable about many things, kind and yet wild. It was evident why Azriel was often after her, offering his company. 

Finally, one evening, while Cassian and Marzia were chatting by one of the bay windows in the big living room, she grabbed Azriel by the elbow and took him outside. She didn't miss the shiver that ran through his body at her touch, or how he turned around to look at Marzia before they walked into the starry night.

"I see the way you look at her," she said.

"Mmm," he grunted, sipping from his glass of liqueur. 

"You know, I've been talking to her in the last few days."

His eyebrows quirked at that, but he remained silent. 

"She is quite nice," she said. "She told me about the mountains and about her travels, even her time in the human lands."

"Marzia told you about all of that?"

"She did, yes."

"She must like you."

"Don't get jealous, Az," she teased. "She likes you, too."

He grunted softly, nodding. She didn't miss the tiny grin that showed at the corner of his lips.

"I want you to know, Azriel, that if you want to be with her, you can."

He turned to look at her, bewildered. His eyes were troubled, confused, but his mouth was closed in a tight line. 

"I know what you feel about me," she continued, to his astonishment. "But I can't give you what you want. I don't love you in the way that you would like, Az. And I know that this makes you unhappy. Marzia, however, can offer you the happiness that I can't. Besides, she told me about her aunt-"

"The Seer," he said, speaking up. "I know what she said."

"Then, what are you waiting for? You both care about each other…"

She let her words hang in the air for a few more seconds. She wanted to give him time to think and mull over her words. As he took another sip from his glass, she stepped away from him little by little, giving him some space as he grew surrounded by his shadows.

"Morrigan," he said. "Thank you."

She smiled, knowing that her work was done. There was nothing left to add. She only hoped that it would be enough to give her friend some needed happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so SO sorry to have taken this long again :( I didn't have WiFi for over a week and then some health issues popped up out of nowhere so I've been all over the place for the past few days. I apologize again and I will try to maintain a regular update schedule moving forward.


	11. Chapter 11

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

He sat alone on his desk, going through some paperwork. His mind was all over the place, but he needed to solve an urgent matter. Ever since Morrigan's confession, which was more of a confirmation of something that he already knew, he had been desperate. Finances had never been something that he truly cared about, as he probably had more money than he could spend in his lifetime, but as he considered this next purchase, he knew he was about to make a dent in that amount.

"Why do you suddenly want to buy a house?" Marzia asked, lounging on his bed. 

It didn't go unnoticed to him that she had gone back to wearing his sweaters.

"We are abusing Rhys and his hospitality. Besides, I'm getting old. I'm beginning to think it's time to settle down."

"You are barely over five hundred," she said, rolling on her belly. "I'd say you are still young."

He let out a laugh but continued looking at the sums of money he owned to figure out how much he wanted to spend.

"Why a house? You could buy an apartment if it's just you."

"I'm not letting you stay here while I move out."

"Az, I'm going back to the mountains as soon as winter ends."

"Mm, you told me that."

"So? Why buy a house for us when you could get an apartment for yourself?"

"Because I want to convince you to stay."

Marzia suddenly sat up on his bed, glaring at him. She looked tense but her eyes were unreadable. His shadows were in turmoil, but he remained impassive, his eyes glued to the paper in his hands. 

He then heard the bedsheets ruffle, and his eyes lifted towards the sound when his shadows whispered danger. Marzia was walking towards him, finally stopping to perch herself on the armrest of his chair. 

One of his hands shifted so it could sit over her thigh. Her left hand, instead, went to rest over his head.

"What if I don't want to stay?" She asked.

He shrugged. "You will have a place to stay when you come visit, then."

"And if I never come back?"

"You are lying."

He looked at her then and found her giving him a strange look of confusion.

"I let you go once, and I'm not doing it again," he explained.

"But you… You spoke with Mor the other day, didn't you?"

"I did, yes."

"What did she say?"

"Something I already knew. Don't worry."

"Az…"

"Go and get changed."

She obeyed with a sigh, getting up and heading towards the wardrobe. If the Mother allowed it, she would have one to herself in the new house. She picked up a pair of leggings and a shirt and disappeared towards the washroom.

“You seem to think you know me,” she said, exiting five minutes later.

“Because I do.”

He showed her a satisfied smirk and was glad to find her still at his side. He knew there was work to be done if he actually wanted her to stay, but things were seemingly pointing to the right direction.

◇◇◇

He knew he couldn’t afford a riverfront mansion like Rhys; whose fortune greatly surpassed his, but he could afford a nice townhouse in the middle of Velaris, similar to the one where they used to live before. He had found himself making appointments to see several of those houses, looking at the lustrous wooden floors in this first one as he dragged Marzia along, insisting that he needed her help. She huffed and puffed but let herself be dragged around. She didn’t flinch when he placed his hands on her waist and made her enter the first house, behind the previous owner. 

The male Fae knew him, as did most people in Velaris, and treated him with the respect that his position gave him. After he was done showing the house, he left them alone to view it for themselves.

"Shadowsinger," she echoed suddenly, moving a few steps ahead of him. "This is the first time that I hear someone call you that."

"Wait until they call me 'Spymaster,' Marz."

"A fancy title for an Illyrian warrior."

She shrugged, continuing her walk around the empty house. Marzia was seemingly warming up to the idea of sharing his new house - at least until she left, or he could convince her to stay.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"A bit too big, if you ask me. I'm not used to such luxuries."

"We have to share, you know?"

"It's still too big, unless you want to house me _and_ a legion of Illyrian warriors here."

"No," he said, laughing. "But I would like enough space for my family."

"Family," she mused. "You mean those people up there in the mansion?"

"And more."

She turned to look at him, once again almost unreadable. Yet, there was a glimpse of hope somewhere in those honeyed eyes.

"What did Mor tell you?" She asked again.

"Nothing that you have to worry about."

"But you've been strange ever since then."

"You are imagining things, Marz."

She pouted but continued to walk around the house. 

It wasn't long until one house turned into two, and then three and then four. By the time night began to fall, he was exhausted. Marzia, however, had laced her fingers with his somewhere in the second house, and had yet to let go. It was one of those things he admired of her - she wasn't repulsed by the scars.

"Which one did you like best?"

"The second one," she said. "It's not super big or flashy but has enough space for a family."

"It has a nice terrace, too… Good for flying."

"Yes," she said, going stiff.

He tightened his grasp on her fingers, bringing her hand up so he could kiss her knuckles. 

"Live with me?" He asked.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "I already told you that _maybe,_ I'd consider it."

"Then help me find furniture for the house, for now."

"Tomorrow," she said. "I'm too tired now."

He nodded in agreement, continuing his walk with her. In the months that they had spent together since he found her, he had come to realize many things about her and himself - the first one being how much attraction they felt towards each other.

Centuries ago, in the steppes, he had felt it too, but now it was more evident. And back then, he had been too blinded by his feelings for Mor to act upon Marzia's offers. Now, however, he felt calm enough - and no longer tangled in the blonde female's grasp. Those conflicting feelings had been gnawing at him since Marzia reappeared; until Mor gave him the blessing he needed to move on, knowing that there was nothing she could offer him to make him stay. 

Marzia was a different story. Slowly, she had stolen bits and pieces of his mind and heart. A part of him had cared about her for centuries, but now those feelings were joined by something else - something more primal. If he could, he would spend hours looking at her, memorizing each and every single one of her lines and curves. If he could, he would do a lot more than just that. He still remembered when they had trained atop the Hewn City and how he had almost kissed her before Mor's interruption.

"You are awfully quiet," she said suddenly, squeezing his fingers. 

"I'm thinking," he replied, offering a smile.

She nodded, leaning closer. His shadows gave way to accommodate her, pooling around his ear and whispering as they constantly did. This time, they only repeated one word as her arm linked through his.

_Marzia, Marzia, Marzia._

◇◇◇

The Riverfront house was in evident disarray. Elain, the middle Archeron sister, was coming with her mate, and the house needed to be pristine for the dinner party that would be thrown in their honor. Even Nesta, who had been staying with Elain, was coming, to Cassian’s delight and chagrin.

Marzia, however, was still sitting half-naked on his bed despite of the dinner beginning in a few hours. He had told her, days before, that she needed to at least make an appearance.

“You should get dressed,” he said, throwing her a damp towel. 

She didn’t move, just let the towel smack her on the shoulder. Not even stepping in front of her wearing only a pair of pants made her look up. 

"Marz?"

"I haven't worn a fancy dress since I was in the human lands," she whispered, staring off into the distance.

He climbed up on the bed, taking her hands in his. Her eyes welled up, overcome by emotion when she finally turned to look at him.

"You must have loved him," he said.

She shook her head, wiping angrily at her tears. "He is dead, there's no use-"

"There is," he said, taking a seat next to her. "If you wish to stay here…"

"N-no, no. I told you I would go. I just need some time to…"

He could read her reluctance to go in the way that she moved, in the way that her eyes wouldn't focus on him but were instead fixed on the past. He couldn't blame her. He didn't know what she had shared with the human male, but he knew that Henry had meant a lot to her. He would not push her into something that she wouldn't enjoy.

"As much as you need," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead as one of his hands cupped her cheeks. 

She sighed, biting her lower lip as she kneeled next to him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, reassuring her of his presence, as he ran them down her arms.

"You don't mind?"

"No. I can wait for you downstairs, while you feel better."

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "Thank you, Azriel."

He brought his hands up, wrapping his arms around her waist, wanting to stay like that for a little bit longer. However, duty called.

"I'll go ahead," he said. 

She held onto him for a little bit longer, but finally let go, allowing him to get up.

"It's a good thing that you forced me to buy a pretty gown," she whispered. "I hope you like the way it looks."

He slipped on his shirt, buttoning it up slowly as her eyes focused on him. "I'm sure I will," he said.

He didn't miss the ragged breaths that escaped from her lips, or the way her eyes traveled slowly over his body.

"Hurry."

The party downstairs was barely beginning, but Elain and Lucien were already surrounded by the rest of his family, all of them talking happily. Well, except for Nesta and Cassian who despite their mating bond, still argued most of the time.

Elain looked radiant in her pale pink gown, her cheeks flushed and healthy-looking. Lucien had a similar air. It was clear that their bond was flourishing. He greeted them both with kindness, and his eyes wandered to the staircase as he waited.

"Where is Marzia?" Cassian asked. "Is she not coming?"

"Who is Marzia?" Elain asked, though the surprise in her face was reflected in Lucien's face as well.

"She's my friend," he said. "And she was getting ready."

Cassian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Did you tire her out before this?"

Nesta smacked his arm, scowling at him.

It wouldn't be until at least an hour later that Marzia would come downstairs, all powerful and female, Illyrian tattoos on full display. 

Azriel turned, sensing her scent, while he sipped from his drink. He'd almost dropped it as he closed the space between them in a few strides.

The bodice of her gown was covered in precious glistening stones, all of them in shades of blues and purples. The skirt, made of a material so black that it seemed to swallow the darkness around it, flowed to the ground, but opened on the left side to show off her leg. The urge to touch was present in every fiber of his being.

"Beautiful," he whispered, offering his hand for her to take. She did, immediately latching on to his arm. 

The dress showed off the Illyrian tattoos on her back and shoulders, as well as one that covered her entire right arm, and even one that was on her left wrist. He didn't remember seeing them before, but he longed to trace its lines with his long fingers. He didn't miss, however, that the dress barely covered the angry scars that still ran where her wings used to be on her back.

With his hand on her waist, he brought her before Elain and Lucien for the proper introductions. Marzia was gracious throughout, more educated than when she was a teen.

"I know you," Lucien said. "You visited the Spring Court at least a century ago." 

"I did," she said. 

She didn't elaborate, probably to avoid speaking about her wings. Lucien didn't bring it up either, for which he was grateful. 

They continued to move around the room, and eventually settled next to Cassian, who seemed to be on edge now that Nesta was back. Azriel only hoped that they would go somewhere else after the dinner was done, instead of keeping the entire house awake till dawn with screams and moans.

Marzia, for all her nervousness and earlier reluctance, remained the entire night by his side. At some point, her fingers had found his, and they did not let go until many hours later, when they were back together in the privacy of his room.

He removed his shoes and shirt, while she put aside the necklace he'd given her weeks before. Without her asking, he came closer to her from behind and placed his hands on her shoulders. She nodded, silently, and let him help her out of the gown. He'd undone the laces in the back when the pressure became too much, and he pressed a kiss in the crook of her neck and shoulder. She tipped her neck a bit further, giving him more access, but he did not want to push what had already been a success. 

He was intoxicated, drunk on her scent and the whispers of his shadows, which begged him to go further. He slipped the straps of the gown down her shoulders, relishing in the little gasp that left her parted lips. Scar against scar, his fingers touched the jagged cuts on her back. He pressed his lips just at the base of her jawline, and finally stepped away.

Marzia blinked slowly, her eyes following him as he slipped out of his pants and threw himself on the bed, letting his wings spread. She cleared her throat, heading for the attached washroom. Just before the door, she dropped the gown, allowing it to pool around her ankles. He consumed the view - the defined shoulders, the Illyrian tattoos, the scars of her wings, the curve of her backside and her waist, and her feline grin upon seeing his stare. 

"You bought these," she said, delicately fingering the fabric of her black lacy underthings. 

She disappeared through the door of the washroom and he looked away, willing himself to fall asleep before she came back out. He knew that if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping on her. And if he did, he would make sure to rival the sounds coming from Cassian and Nesta's room across the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

The matter of his new house was settled. The second house that they had seen was sold to them at an even cheaper price, and he hadn't hesitated. Even Marzia had been happy to join him now, picking bits and pieces of furniture with him, including on days when his duties as spymaster kept him away from Velaris.

However, he could see from the way she acted that she wasn't entirely thrilled to stay. He'd been dropping more and more hints, hoping to find whatever had been troubling her. Finally, when the first snow of the late autumn season fell upon Velaris, he found his answer. She could not stop staring at the snow-capped mountains surrounding the city.

"Do you miss the steppes?" He asked her one night. 

Her head snapped up, focusing on him. "I miss my cottage. It was beautiful up there during winter."

"Do you want to go?"

"I would love to, but I can't," she said, motioning to her back and her lack of wings.

"I could winnow us there, if you want."

Marzia's eyes widened, staring at him. "You would do that, for me?"

"Of course," he said. "I would do anything you asked of me."

"Then take me. Join me. Let's spend a few days in the mountains."

He couldn't deny her request. Not when the hope had returned to shine on her eyes. Not when she smiled at him like he was her entire world.

He feared, however, that she would want to stay there and not come back with him to Velaris.

"Three days," he said. "Then, we'll come back to the city."

"Sure," she said, her eyes sparkling. "We can do a lot in three days."

That night, after dinner, he went to Rhys' office with his request, hoping for a positive answer. Part of him knew that his brother wouldn't be too happy, given how much he had to do, and how much Azriel could help him, but his spies were well positioned, and he could winnow back in case there was an emergency.

The office was nicely decorated, with dark wooden furniture and navy-blue accents in the chairs and curtains, contrasting with the ivory walls. The delicateness of the space indicated that Feyre had decorated it, but the personal touches made it clear it was Rhys who worked there. There was a fire running, burning cozily in a corner.

Rhys was quiet, sipping on some wine; his eyes were focused on the stars outside the windows. When he entered, however, he turned and smiled at him.

"Rhys," Az said.

"Brother," he replied, motioning to an empty chair so that Azriel could take a seat. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Rhys," he said. "Better than I have been in a while."

"I'm glad to hear that, brother," he said, smiling.

There was a certain tiredness in Rhys' voice, and Azriel noticed that he looked somehow older - as if things were more difficult than he let on. He hesitated, not wanting to worry his brother more than necessary.

"What brings you here?" Rhys asked. "Is something amiss?"

Azriel cursed himself for being torn between his duty to Rhys and… his duty with Marzia. He sighed, rubbing his temples, and begged the Mother for patience. 

"I want to go to the steppes with Marzia."

The glass in Rhysand's hands lowered and his violet eyes studied him closely. He wondered what was going on behind those troubled eyes. 

"Are you going to be gone for a long time?" Rhys asked, clearly calculating.

"No, only three days."

Rhysand nodded, deliberating, as he took another sip from his glass. "You may go," he said. "But come back early on the fourth day. I need your help with something."

"Alright, I understand," Azriel said, letting out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, brother."

He tried to get up, to stop bothering the tired male, but another gesture from Rhysand stopped him. He sat back down and waited patiently for him to speak.

"How are things with Marzia?"

The question startled him, but something warm spread over him at the question.

"She is recovering well."

"And the creatures that hurt her, have you had any luck at finding them?" 

Azriel's shadows stirred and he grew quiet, shaking his head in a silent negative. 

"Nothing," he said. "Not yet."

Rhys nodded, seemingly deep in thought. "And everything else? I mean - between you and her."

"Things are-"

"Don't tell me that they are simply _fine_ , Az. I saw you both at the dinner we hosted for Elain and Lucien. The two of you have grown… closer."

"We have, yes."

"Do you love her?"

"I... don't know."

Rhys sighed, nodding. 

"Has the bond snapped into place?"

"I don't know if there is a bond, Rhys."

"To me, it's evident," Rhys said, smiling softly. "I mean, you are taking her to the mountains, and you are buying a house for yourself here in the city. If you didn't see yourself with her in the future, you wouldn't do those things."

Azriel sighed, nodding. "You are right. But I don't know if we are mates."

"No one does until the moment it hits, then you _know._ "

With those thoughts swirling around his brain, he left Rhys' office and went back to his room. He found Marzia already half-asleep on his bed, and after changing out of his clothes, he joined her. She stirred, rolling over until she was facing him.

"Where were you?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer.

"Telling Rhys that we are going to the mountains."

He placed his hands on her hips, gasping when she kissed his collarbone and stayed still, fully asleep. He smiled to himself, using his wings to wrap both of them in a cocoon of warmth.

◇◇◇

Marzia had not been wrong. Her cottage _was_ beautiful during the winter months. It was still late autumn, but large amounts of snow had already begun falling in the clearing where her small cottage hid from prying eyes amidst the evergreens. He had flown above this particular place before, unaware of who occupied the house he was seeing now for the first time.

They had already cleared the snow from the entrance, revealing the wide door that had once allowed her to enter with her wings. He was thankful for that modification, but he couldn't help feeling heartbroken when he saw her standing next to it, this time thin and small. The cottage was a simple square, mostly made of rough-cut stone and wood.

"This cottage was abandoned when I found it," she explained. "There was nothing in it but the walls and some firewood. I don't know who built it or why they did it here, but I thank the Cauldron for its existence."

He nodded, taking in the insides of the place as she opened the door. It was bigger on the inside, he realized. There was a fireplace opposite from the entrance, with some cooking utensils still hanging over it. In front of it was a chair, crafted to be comfortable and able to accommodate Illyrian wings. There was a small table next to it, covered in all sorts of things and a plant that had died long ago. To the left, there was a door that lead to what was presumably her bedroom, but he couldn't see much into the room. To the right, a big window dominated the wall, and in front of it stood a sturdy table with a pair of stools. The rough wood was covered in dust and weapons, including an Illyrian crossbow. 

"It's… quaint."

"You don't have to lie, Az. It's ugly," she said, smiling softly. "I didn't live here for too long."

He nodded but followed after her as she opened windows to let in some fresh air and pulled logs from a cabinet to throw in the fireplace. As she moved, the cottage came to life around her.

"Follow me here," she said, taking a few more logs. "To the bedroom."

He hadn't been wrong; the door to the left side of the house lead to her room. As soon as he entered, he was startled by the view he could spy through the stained-glass windows - endless forest and snow. A big stone tub sat in front of the window, big enough to hold a full-grown Illyrian warrior like himself. The bed wasn't too far away, a pile of dusty furs and blankets. In front of it, to keep the room warm, there was an extension of the main fireplace, where Marzia was now throwing some logs to keep the chill away. 

"Welcome to my home," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "It's not much and it's dusty, but-"

With a snap of her fingers, the entire house cleaned itself. The dust disappeared, the floor and all surfaces were scrubbed, and she even procured some orbs of faerie light to illuminate the spots of the house that couldn't be reached by the light of the fire. He blinked at her, at the smirk that appeared on her face. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" He asked.

She laughed, heartily and soundly, coming closer to him. Despite of their coats, he hugged her, bringing her closer by the waist.

"I don't use my Fae magic that often," she explained. "But I learned to control it during my travels. It's not as great as if I were full Fae, and I don't have the amount of power to warrant a Siphon. But I make do with it."

He nodded, placing a kiss on her forehead. He liked seeing her happy like that.

Her mood, which was light soon after her arrival, however, soured as the day continued. By the time night fell, she had withdrawn and barely spoke to him, before she announced that she was going to sleep. He found her awake when he followed after her an hour later. 

Marzia's arms had completely circled her own body, so her fingertips brushed against the scars on her back. She was naked from the waist up, covered by one of the furs on her bed. 

He climbed next to her, replacing her hands with his. She was crying, sobbing softly against her pillows. He pressed his chest to her back, placing his lips softly on the top of her spine. She didn't need to tell him what she was feeling.

Her house, her furniture... her mountains. All taken, reduced to memories, to places that she would never be able to fly over again. 

"I'm here," he whispered. "I won't leave you."

She sobbed harder, her entire body convulsing with the weight of her grief as it crashed over her. If he had to stay up till dawn broke, he would do it, just for her.

Marzia wouldn't calm down until many hours later, when her sobs had softened until they became silent tears. She was now facing him, twirling his dark hair between her fingers. 

"Did you continue looking for them?" She asked.

"Of course," he answered. "I won't rest until I've killed those who hurt you the most."

"Have you found any clues about who they were?"

"A few, many too vague to be of importance. And yet, I have followed all of them."

"And still nothing."

He shook his head, letting out a soft sigh.

In his arms, however, surrounded by the quietness of his shadows, sleep finally overtook her, and him, soon after.

◇◇◇

On their second day in the mountains, they slept until very late. He'd used his wings and his shadows to stretch the night around them, making sure they were both recovered enough from the previous night.

They spent the rest of the day fixing bits and pieces of the cottage, like the uneven legs on her kitchen stools or the broken bricks of her fireplace, or sharpening her stash of weapons. He chopped up some more firewood, while she took a long bath in her stone tub.

By the time they had both finished, his wings were hurting from the exhaustion of having them tucked for an entire day, and she had unearthed an old bottle of liqueur. It burned his throat as it went down, but he relished it after the long day. Marzia drank as well, and he wondered how it would affect her.

At some point of the early evening, his shadows felt a disturbance nearby, but not even a thorough sweep could determine the danger behind his sensation.

"You seem tense," she said, sitting on the little table next to his chair. 

The fireplace was burning brightly next to them, making the atmosphere cozier. Even his shadows had brushed off that sensation of being watched, quietly whispering in his ear to focus on the female next to him and nothing else.

"It was a long day," he said, shrugging.

"How are your wings?"

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't told her about his discomfort. "Aching. How did you know?"

"It used to happen to me too," she said, shrugging. "Come, follow me."

She got up without turning to see if he followed, heading towards her room. She rummaged through the drawers of an old wooden wardrobe, looking for something.

"Remove your shirt," she said. "And lay face down on the bed."

Those words alone stirred something in him, something primal. The strong alcohol in his system didn't help either. And his shadows, his companions, urged him to obey.

His body had barely touched the mattress, shirtless and face down, when he felt the bed dipping again. Marzia's knees settled to either side of his hips, sitting over his backside. The earthy smell of her scented oil filled his nostrils, mixing with her now familiar scent of honey and pine needles. When her hands touched his shoulders, he could have sworn he was melting. By the time she reached his wings, he had to stifle a moan.

"I used to have really bad pains in my wings when I traveled around Prythian and the continent. I would overuse them, and they would cramp up at night. Soon after I arrived in the continent, the owner of the inn where I stayed gave me this oil. It's soothing, isn't it?"

"Yes," he groaned. "Very."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke again. "Good."

Her hands did wonders to ease the tension from his neck and shoulders, but every time she came closer to his wings, he saw stars.

"What kind of oil is it?" He asked, trying to focus his thoughts elsewhere.

"Eucalyptus. It smells nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

His voice came out strangled, since her fingers were again brushing over the curves of his wings.

"Illyrian wings are extremely sensitive, aren't they?"

"Marzia, you know that."

She laughed, leaning to press a kiss in between his shoulder blades.

"May I continue?"

He nodded, torn between wanting to be as relaxed as he was and having her hands touch him elsewhere. _Everywhere._

Her fingers traced over his talons, caressing every scar and every bone, every bump of tissue. Then, her touches became light as a feather, and he tucked his wings more closely so her fingers could reach his entire wingspan.

The gesture was extremely intimate, but he felt content with it - he trusted her to keep him safe. Furthermore, his shadows were whispering _more, more, more._

Marzia's hands finally left his wings, muttering something about wingspan size that made him blush so much that he was glad his face was buried between his arms. Slowly, she moved lower, working now on his ribs and waist. When she reached his lower back, he knew he'd had enough.

He grabbed her wrists, effectively stopping her. 

"Something wrong?" She asked.

He shifted his weight under her, just enough to pull her down and flip them over until she was below him. 

There was a hint of fear in her eyes, but it disappeared as soon as she saw the way that he was looking at her - like he wanted to _devour_ her.

He placed his elbows to either side of her head, looking down into her golden eyes. His long, tan fingers swept deftly over the column of her neck, making her pulse beat wildly against his fingertips. Marzia bit her lower lip, tipping her head back to give him more access. 

He brushed his nose along her jawline, letting the weight of his body press fully against hers. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, tangling his fingers in her curls. In his ears, his shadows uttered her name as if it were a prayer.

Cauldron and Mother damn him both. Last time, centuries ago, _she_ had kissed him. This time, he was the one who pressed his lips against hers with passion. He shuddered at the contact, immediately losing himself in the taste of her. She wrapped her legs around him, hooking her ankles around his thighs. 

He could stay like that forever, he decided, bodies pressed closely together, lips exploring each other. As Marzia's delighted gasps joined the sounds of his shadows, spurring him further and further until it was only him and her, he knew that nothing and no one could separate them from that moment.


	13. Chapter 13

◇◇◇

**_MARZIA_ **

Bright and early on their third morning in her cottage, Marzia felt on edge, confused and distracted. 

Not because of Azriel, who was still blissfully asleep next to her, but because she knew her house - and she also knew when something lurked around it. From her bed, she could see out through the window into the snowy trunks of the evergreens outside, and nothing stood out as dangerous.

A sudden hand upon her thigh startled her, but she knew those scars and those deft fingers as they moved to settle on her hip.

"Good morning," he said, groggy and low.

"Morning," she answered, tangling her fingers in his inky black hair. 

She was absent, however, deep in her thoughts. If someone was outside, if someone knew they were there…

"Is something amiss?" He asked, getting up slowly.

It was hard for him to maneuver, she noticed, all tangled in her furs and his wings.

"I think someone else is nearby, watching."

She had never seen someone change so quickly. Azriel straightened immediately, turning towards the window, scanning their surrounding areas faster than she had done just a minute before.

His shadows swirled around him, dark and menacing. In the middle of her bed, their hands met.

"Stay near me, and I'll keep you safe."

They left the bedroom together, throwing on some coats before stepping outside. With her hand tightly in his grasp, and her bare feet against the newly fallen snow, she saw in person why people in Velaris called him 'Shadowsinger.'

From the moment she had seen him in that Illyrian camp two centuries ago, she knew she had to get her hands on him. His raw, untamed power, and his good looks made him attractive to anyone who dared look beyond the swirls of his shadows around his body and the seven siphons that adorned him. She had wanted to kiss him from the moment he'd walked into her camp - kiss him until he only remembered her name and her taste on his lips.

"Nothing," he said. "Let's go back inside."

She was still on edge, and now he was as well. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing a kiss over the worried crease of her brow. It did nothing to ease the chaos that had begun to swirl inside her head.

He told her that she had nothing to worry about. That it was perhaps a momentary feeling. It wasn't. She knew. They went back inside, hand in hand, eyes on their snowy surroundings.

After eating, taking a bath, and changing into leggings and a tunic, Marzia still watched the tree line with growing concern. She knew that no creature was there, if neither her skills as a former mercenary and Azriel's skills as spymaster could find them. They couldn't fool them even if they were alone. Yet, she knew that something was amiss - she knew the signals, even in the chaos of her mind.

Azriel, instead, watched _her_. She had changed in the two hundred years apart. Her eyes were keener, her senses sharper. He had noticed, but he hadn't seen her in action in her prime, when she was sought after for her skills. He would never see her like that, not without her wings. So she had asked him, whose skills were perhaps better.

He took to the skies, spreading his wings as much as he could. She watched him from below, hugging herself closely, wishing she could join him. The ghost of her wings haunted her, seeing how he became a black speck in the clear afternoon sky. When he came back down, he had nothing to report.

For Marzia, the hours passed and the feeling stayed. It didn't matter how much her stubborn male told her that he would protect her, by the time evening came, she didn't want to wait anymore. She was tired of looking over her shoulders, of scrutinizing every sound with the hope that it wouldn't bring certain death.

"Take me back to Velaris," she said. "I want to go home."

She didn't miss the skip in his heartbeat, how her words linking together his beloved city and her 'home' made him feel. He walked over to her, placing his hands on her hips and a kiss on her lips. They picked up the few things that were truly important for them to take, and he winnowed them back to the safety of Velaris; all preparations barely registering in her fear-riddled mind.

◇◇◇

The house Azriel bought for them, because she refused to believe he hadn't done it for that reason, was almost ready. She was proud of it, prouder than she'd been when she first found and settled on her cottage in the mountains. 

Early the morning after they had winnowed back into the city, Azriel left her in the Riverfront house, and went out on a mission with the High Lord. After breakfast, she'd dressed warmly, far nicer than she could afford if it hadn't been for him and stepped outside in the early winter fog.

Her black leggings were sturdy, meant for harsh winters, but practical. Her ivory-colored sweater, taken from his side of the wardrobe, provided her with comfort beyond that of its warm wool. The smell of night-chilled mist and cedar surrounded her, reminding her of him. A dark olive-green cloak covered her back and shoulders, further guarding her against the chill. Strapped to her thigh was an obsidian dagger that she'd found in her cottage, alongside the one that Azriel bought her when he took her to shop for clothes.

The city, despite the oncoming season, was bustling with activity. The streets were crowded with faes of all kinds, curious shoppers and busy merchants, even some small children. She was dazzled by it, amazed at the atmosphere of happiness that covered every inch of it. No one paid her too much attention, not even when she'd stop to smell the air, catching a whiff of an imported spice that reminded her of a place that she had once visited.

She had wandered all over Prythian, and even beyond to the territories in the continent. She'd met people, honed her skills, and become stronger. She wouldn't be the female she was now if she hadn't felt the warmth of the continent, the kindness of her human lover, or the anger of her enemies as she took them out one by one.

The only thing she missed from those days, even as she continued walking through the streets and her memories, was her wings. She loved the freedom they had once provided, the power that came from showing them - as if her entire value came from them. The smile that had begun to appear on her lips, vanished immediately.

She heard the sudden boom of wings before she saw the male landing in front of her, hair loose around his shoulders.

"Cassian," she said. "Good morning."

He looked around her, perhaps waiting for Azriel to materialize from the shadows.

"Marzia," he said, gravelly and strong. "Did he let you out of your cage?"

While the urge to hit him was tingling in her fingertips, something in her murderous glare must have made him stop, for his hands rose in defeat. He always had a way to get on her nerves.

"You don't leave the house unless you are with him."

"The fact that you don't see me leaving doesn't mean that I don't do it."

"Fair enough," he said with a shrug. "Would you let me join you on this walk?"

"I'm not going for a walk. I'm going to our new house."

Cassian suddenly seemed to find her very interesting. "Azriel didn't tell me anything about a new house."

"Well, with you and your mate _tangled_ in other activities, and your bedsheets, I doubt you would have listened anyway."

He laughed, deeply and heartily, following her along the Sidra and into the different Palaces, towards the new townhouse.

If she had to be honest to herself, she had always enjoyed Cassian's company, despite the fact that they sometimes enjoyed snapping at each other a bit more. The Illyrian commander was a natural leader, a force of nature itself, but a good and loyal friend to those around him - including her, despite of their rocky beginnings.

When she met him at the Illyrian camp, Cassian had mistaken her for a female of poor talents, slow with a weapon and difficult to train, especially because of her stubbornness. Soon, however, he began to trust her more, and continuously asked her to join him in the sparring ring. When she set her eyes on Azriel, though, perhaps he'd felt betrayed and jealous. It didn't matter now, not when he was mated, and she was with the male she desired. However, part of her wished he had seen her as a mercenary, to see how much she had actually learned from him.

"How's your back?" He asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Healed," she replied, letting out a sigh that misted and frosted in front of her lips. "The scars are still there, but they don't hurt anymore, and they are not swollen either."

"Blessed be the Mother. You were lucky Azriel found you after your attack."

She nodded, feeling the pain in her phantom wings. "I'd be dead if he hadn't."

"Has he had any luck in finding them?"

"No, not yet, but… there was someone in the mountains yesterday, near my cottage."

Cassian's brow furrowed, lost in his thoughts.

"Did you try to track them?"

"Yes, but nothing came of it."

Cassian nodded, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. "Az will kill them, even if it takes him centuries to find them."

"I know he will."

They had reached the front gates of the townhouse. Cassian let out a low whistle. 

"With the size of this house, I hope I have my own bedroom inside."

"I told Azriel that it was too big, but he said he wanted space for his family."

Cassian's grin was devilish as he pushed open the gate to the small entry garden, which would remain bleak while the winter progressed. They went up the three steps that led to the ornate wooden door with stained glass panels that showed the sigil of the Night Court - a mountain with three stars shining above. 

"How many children does he plan to have with you, to fill such a house?"

She whirled around, placing her fingertips against his leather-covered chest, pushing him slightly back. Her nostrils flared, partly nervous, partly excited. _Children..._

"He meant everyone at the riverfront house."

"Yes, and he also included the ones that will come from both of you, I'm sure."

She rolled her eyes, keeping the thoughts at bay, and pushing open the door to lead them into the rough-stone foyer. There were no decorations on the walls, and the only bit of furniture in the small space was an old wooden drawer.

"Some furniture still needs to be brought," she said, keeping her voice under tight control. She walked further into what seemed to be an empty formal living room. "But we are getting there."

"You will stay with him, then?" He asked. "In Velaris?"

She blinked up at him, removing her cloak as she sighed. That was a question that had been hanging over her head for days now. The answer to it, however, still escaped her. 

"I - I don't know yet."

Marzia placed the cloak over the railing of the staircase leading upstairs.

"See?" He said. "That's the thing I never liked about you - how indecisive you are."

"I wasn't indecisive when I gave you black eyes, was I?" She snapped.

"That's not what I meant, Marzia."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"You are indecisive when it comes to Azriel," he said, crossing his arms. "Or had you really expected him not to whine about losing you for two centuries?"

"He didn't-"

"Of course he did! You just weren't there to see it, but I was."

"Liar."

He had to be lying. Azriel didn't _whine_ over her. He may have cared about her, but she refused to believe that he had been affected by it in that way. 

Cassian let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, don't believe me. But I spent fifty years with him while Amarantha ruled Under the Mountain, and I know how much he actually cared about you."

"I won't leave him, if that is what worries you."

"I want to see him happy," he said. "If he is happy with you, you'd better respect him."

"We are mates, Cassian. The bond just hasn't snapped yet."

Cassian stared at her. "How do you know?"

"My aunt was a Seer," she began. "Before you and Azriel arrived at our camp, she had a vision. It was me, surrounded by shadows that protected me at every turn. I thought that perhaps it meant that I would go rogue and kill someone, but… when she saw Azriel, she told me that my life and his would forever be tied together."

"He is your destiny," he said. "Your Fate?"

She nodded, moving around the empty space, stopping by the cold fireplace, deep within her memories. "Did you know that after I slept with him and I left him in his tent, he followed after me?"

Cassian blinked. "No, he never told me."

"He begged me to stay, saying he felt… something… for me that he couldn't explain."

"Did you tell him what your aunt told you?"

"Of course. He let go of me then, talking about Morrigan, and how Fate could sometimes be wrong. Then, he said that he would wait for me to return, to sort things out."

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I would have punched him in the face if I had been there. Especially knowing how much he whined about you once you were gone."

She laughed, walking to where he was, shrugging.

"He did what he thought was right at that moment."

"And _whined_ to me about it for two centuries, yes," he said, rolling his eyes.

Marzia laughed, placing a hand on his forearm.

"Will you tell me all about it while I show you the rest of the house?" 

He smiled back at her, letting her lead him through the house that had already become her home.

◇◇◇

When Azriel came back, two days later, she'd made up her mind. Their house was almost done, most of the furniture already installed and ready for them to move. The only thing that still needed to be settled was whether or not she would stay in Velaris.

If she had to be honest, all she wanted was to stay with Azriel - in Velaris, in the mountains, or anywhere else; it didn't matter.

The moment he stepped into the room, she gravitated towards him, throwing herself in the comfort of his arms; that unspoken something that had been with them for over two centuries bringing them together.

"I missed you," she said, pressing a soft kiss against his jawline.

His wings suddenly covered them, wrapping protectively around their bodies. Before, she would have shrunk at the gesture, too hurt because of her pain, but now she didn't mind so much. It was still a sore subject, but she was recovering. She liked feeling that he could protect her in the same way that she would have done if she had her wings.

"I missed you more," he whispered sleepily.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?"

"Only if you join me."

She tried to push him away, smiling, but he caught her waist and pulled her closer to him. His lips soon found hers, further enticing her to agree to his petition. She wanted nothing more than to agree, to lose herself in the comforts of his body.

"Fine," she said. "I have to tell you something anyway."

His eyebrows rose - a silent question for clarification.

"I'll get the water running while you remove your leathers, okay?"

He nodded, letting his fingertips linger softly over her belly. Cassian's words suddenly flashed in her mind, about Azriel wanting children, but she pushed them away and left the bedroom. She had to, before she felt the urge to take him to bed instead.

She didn't know why she felt nervous. She made the water appear magically, almost absentmindedly, and along with it some soap and the oil from her cottage. When Azriel walked in, she was standing by the window.

"Everything alright?" He asked, stopping behind her.

The warmth of his skin seeped through the thin material of her night shift, and the windowpanes reflected his nakedness. He was unnervingly handsome, a reflection of perfection in her eyes. Even his shadows seemed at peace, with her so close to him.

"Yes," she said. "Perfect."

"What did you have to tell me?"

"Two things," she said. "But first, get in the bath, please?"

He obeyed, moving slowly until he stepped inside the tub. Only then did she allow herself to look at him, at the worry in his eyes and the fear that stirred his shadows now. She wanted to kiss his worries away.

"The last pieces of furniture will be brought to the house tomorrow," she said, walking closer to him. "After they are put in their place, the townhouse will be officially ready for move-in."

"And? What else?"

"You must take me back to the mountains."

His face fell, just as she reached the rim of the tub and took a seat where his hands could reach her easily if he wished.

"I…"

"You must take me," she said. "Because I want to pick up the rest of my cottage."

His eyes widened, taking in her face - at the feelings she conveyed there.

"If you wish to have me, I would like to stay with you here, in Velaris."

"Always," he said. "For as long as I live, I will always want you here."


	14. Chapter 14

◇◇◇

**_MARZIA_ **

The little cottage sat in the far end of a small clearing in the woods, surrounded by the naked trunks of old evergreens that covered almost every inch of the Illyrian territory she had come to love. Any of the paths that led to it were covered by a fresh blanket of snow, white and undisturbed.

The house was made of round river stones and rough dark wood with two rickety steps leading to the wide entrance door, dating to an earlier winter where she had accidentally broken some of the nails holding them together. The roof was gabled, thatched, and covered in at least one foot of snow. Near the middle, the escape of a fireplace stood out, black with soot but otherwise cold. There was a small window to the left, stained with grime from her cooking inside. 

That cottage she called home was half-buried in the snow and surrounded by trees that provided her with the privacy she needed. It was perfect for an Illyrian warrior who longed peace and quiet - a place away from the war camps and the prying eyes of those who only wished harm. 

Or so she thought.

Marzia and Azriel had winnowed to the far end of the clearing, planning to walk the rest of the way to avoid any unwelcome surprises. The chilled morning air filled up her lungs when she breathed while her heart pounded in her chest. She felt nervous as she let Azriel lead the way. They both stopped, however, when they took a good look at the house. She gasped as she peaked over Azriel's shoulder, absorbing the scene that was laid in front of her eyes. Her precious cottage, her safe haven, had been ransacked. The window had been smashed to bits and the door had almost been ripped off its hinges. She tightened a hand closer to her chest, the adrenaline speeding up the beating of her heart.

Azriel pulled a dagger out of his leathers and slid it softly into her empty hand. His shadows swirled dangerously around him, spreading to his surrounding areas with dizzying speed. Without a word, she placed her feet into the fighting position he taught her back in Velaris. 

"They are gone for now, but they will be back." He said, and she noticed how he didn't ease his shoulders.

"How do you know?" Panic was starting to taint her voice.

"I just do."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she wouldn't let her emotions take control as she moved forward. Her fingers were tight over the polished handle of the dagger in her hands. She was glad that Azriel had forced her to practice sparring, and that either him or Cassian went against her at least once a week. After all, she had to learn all the basics again, her abilities were useless now that she had no… that her body was not the same as before. It had been tough, but at least she wouldn't be caught unaware by whatever danger awaited.

"Is the house empty?" She asked, her eyes fixed on the crumbling door.

Azriel's shadows swirled away, darting among the evergreens and sliding inside the cottage. The seconds he took felt longer than usual, but as soon as the confirmation was received, Marzia darted up the steps while Azriel stayed behind, keeping watch. 

The inside was a mess of scattered objects and misplaced utensils all over the wooden floor. It was complete chaos, as if the doer meant more than looking for her valuables. At some point, that little cottage in the woods had been her sanctuary, her safe place away from everything. Now, it was nothing more than a collection of broken things. She blinked, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for it. They couldn't be burglars, she barely owned anything so it must have been for something else. Maybe it was related to the presence they felt last time they visited, something - or someone - responsible for her wings. She shook her head to dismiss her thoughts and remind herself what needed to be done. The faster she gathered her stuff, the sooner they would get the hell out of that place. 

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind that she tensed up, noticing how Azriel had gone utterly still by her doorframe. Without a word, he pulled out a dagger from his belt. 

She reached out to him, returning the dagger that he had thrust upon her palm minutes ago. She had noticed her Illyrian crossbow was still there, laying untouched over the kitchen table, so she wouldn't be using the dagger for now.

"No," he whispered. "Keep it."

Marzia nodded, securing it on the leather strap around her thigh before stretching her arm and taking hold of her crossbow. Azriel only gave her a questioning look before nodding, allowing her to pass in front of him and exit the cottage. 

She went down the rickety steps, feeling his eyes following her every movement before finally stopping three steps out in the snow-covered ground.

They were no longer alone in those mountains.

The dainty white snow contrasted with the High Fae male standing in front of them. He was massive, made of pure muscle and built as heavily as a mountain. Marzia knew that Azriel could see the same she was seeing; his brown dappled skin and wavy dark brown hair were the same as hers. If that wasn't enough, the straight nose and deeply-set eyes were remarkably similar as well. Even if she had never seen him in person, she couldn't deny the truth glaring at her from those hard onyx eyes. 

"Father?" She asked, taking a step closer to him over the snowy terrain. Her icy breath turned to mist, and her hands gripped tighter around the crossbow.

His eyes, however, weren't on her, but on Azriel. They were studying him as he moved to stand behind her, spreading his considerable wingspan to its fullest.

"Azriel, the Shadowsinger," the male rasped. "Spymaster of the Night Court."

Marzia bristled upon hearing Azriel's name on his lips. There was an unsettling sensation carried in each of his words, burning colder than the frozen air around them. She realized he didn't sound particularly happy to see them together.

"At least it's better company than what I heard you enjoyed." The male spat, eyes focused on her, her stance and her weapons. "I had hoped you were dead by now. I was told that the job was done."

Around him, lesser fae had begun to join him. They were stocky in build, their eyes a bottomless pool of blackness, but they flinched at his words, cowering.

"We removed her wings, my lord," the tallest of them said. "She was almost dead when we left her."

"Almost is not enou-"

"You wanted me dead?" She asked, words rushing out while taking a step closer to him. "Your own daughter?"

"Do not interrupt me, child." His jaw tightened as he cocked his head. There was now a menacing tone tainting his words. "You are nothing but a shit stain in my book. A useless piece of garbage. Just like your mother and that male behind you."

Marzia trembled softly, shaken by his words as a fire raged inside her. Her own father had sent someone to kill her. And now, he dared to call her mother and her male garbage. Her blood started boiling.

"Where is my mother?" She asked, clenching her teeth.

"Dead, as you should have been. She cared for you about as much as I did. Although I can't blame her, really." He looked at her up and down. "I would have preferred to be dead, too, than seeing what a disappointment you turned out to be. Good thing that she died before it."

Before she could do something reckless, Azriel placed a steadying hand on her shoulder; his shadows were swirling around his chest, his arms and his wings, getting darker with each heartbeat.

"Why?" He asked, dark and cold. He was getting mad.

Her father rolled his eyes, "You are a fool, Shadowsinger, if you don't see it. Did she tell you what she did after I left her in that camp with her relative?"

He stayed quiet and his deadly eyes remained impassive. It was answer enough for the towering male.

"Then the High Lord of the Night Court has someone useless under his employment."

The arrow bolt that surged through the air took them by surprise, especially the lesser fae whose chest was struck. He fell forward, grasping his chest as he gasped for air. The blood around him was leaking fast enough to make a red puddle around his torso, melting the snow under it.

Marzia removed her finger from the trigger, her hands surprisingly steady as she knocked another bolt into place. Azriel's fingers tightened on her shoulder, but he didn't let go of her.

It was no easy task for an Illyrian warrior to handle such a weapon, and yet she had done it almost effortlessly. A matter of tireless practice, if she had to admit it, but at least her abilities with it hadn't faded away with time.

"What I did after you abandoned me in the mountains is none of your concern," she said.

A soft and bitter laugh came out of his mouth, "It is when stories of you, sharing the bed with human males and working as a mercenary across territories reach my ears and those under my command. Or worse, when word of your desertion during the War reached my lands."

"You never claimed me as your own," she said. "Why would anyone make a connection between us?"

"Because you carry my name, and everyone in my estate knew about you."

"And?"

"You brought shame upon my household."

Another arrow bolt shot out of her crossbow, and this time Azriel didn't squeeze her shoulder to stop her.

"Oops," she said, when another of the lesser fae fell to his face, the same shade of red staining the snow. "Next time I won't miss, Father. We gotta make you proud, don't we?" 

"You wouldn't dare," he said.

"Try me."

Fast as lightning, he stood in front of her, his harsh onyx eyes staring straight into her golden ones. He must have used magic to move so quickly, she thought. But Marzia didn't move a step, even if her legs were about to give in and her hands trembled, she wouldn't show him her fear. In less than a heartbeat, darkness had enveloped her as a shield. Azriel stood close, holding a dagger to her father's neck.

"If you lay a hand on her," he declared. "I'll kill you." Something in his voice chilled her to the core.

"Why would you even want her, Shadowsinger?"

Marzia snarled, baring her teeth. Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back towards his chest. She tossed aside her crossbow - useless in close proximity combat - and in a swift move, she exchanged it for the dagger around her thigh. She didn't dare break the eye contact while closing her fingers over its polished handle.

"She is a disgrace to her heritage," the male spat out. His breath was foul and his eyes wide as he scanned her face. She noticed how his pupils narrowed, showing a vile hatred towards her, for what she'd done.

"She is my only child, and she failed us. She failed me with her attitude. Her death would be a merciful act. A sacrifice, as she deserves worse."

"You abandoned me!" she yelled, trying to pry Azriel's fingers from her waist, to no avail. His grip was as strong as iron. 

"You disappointed us from the beginning," he bared his teeth, nostrils flaring. "Removing your wings and killing you was a warning; one that should have been done a long time ago. That, of course, if you hadn't run away like a coward."

"She deserves a life," Azriel said. His voice was low, dangerous like the darkest hours of the night. "A life where she is free to do as she pleases, where she can be with whoever she wants in the place she decides."

Marzia couldn't see his eyes, but she felt the icy rage radiating from him, coating his every word. She would never want to be on the receiving end of that.

"She deserves nothing!" The male roared.

And before the movement registered in her mind, blood splattered all over her face, spraying her mouth and eyelids. She fell even further back, supported by Azriel's arms as she cried out.

 _Drip, drip, drip_. The blood slid down into the snow.

Her father staggered back, clutching his face with bloodied fingers from covering the wound on his cheek. Marzia stared at the blood dripping from the knife in Azriel's hands, falling in a steady rhythm over the snowy ground.

 _Drip, drip, drip_.

"Leave," Azriel growled. It was not a request, but a command. 

She looked around at the same time as her father, to find all the lesser fae that had accompanied him on the ground, their lives drained out of them. Her knees wobbled, but he held her upright.

"Leave," Azriel repeated. "Or suffer."

"Suffer? You know nothing, kid. Listen to what I say, or you will be the one to suffer. Stay away from her."

"What I do is none of your concern."

Her father lifted his chin, his jaw tensed and trembled in anger as she stared him down. He flicked the blood from his fingers and away from his face, suddenly appearing in front of them again.

This time, her fingers had found her obsidian dagger, but both of them were prepared this time, aiming their weapons at him. She wouldn't let him see how scared she was, how utterly terrified she would be if it weren't for Azriel holding her.

"Leave," she said one final time. Azriel stood so close that she could sense his body tense up, as a panther ready to attack. "Before the terrors of the night catch you."

Her father's nostrils flared one more time, looking at them with a mixture of anger and disgust in his stone-cold onyx eyes. Then, as fast as he appeared in front of them, he disappeared into thin air.

No more than two seconds later, Marzia's knees finally gave out, darkness swallowing her whole.

◇◇◇

She was dreaming, surrounded by a velvety night so dark and soothing, that she didn't want to wake up. She felt safe, warm, guarded against all dangers. 

If she could stay like that forever, she would have happily done it.

However, sunshine was beginning to creep under her eyelids, making her stir and move under the furs of her cottage bed. Her fingers slid across the mattress, taunting, until they found solid muscle.

"Azriel?" She asked in a whisper.

His body was suddenly upon hers, his hands on her neck, his hazel eyes scanning her face with growing concern. He helped her sit up carefully, until they were both in front of each other, their fingers intertwined. 

"I was scared," he blurted. "You vanished, fainted..."

"I thought it was you, that darkness that took me."

"No, no… I was waiting for him to be truly gone before I turned to you, and then you…"

She threw her arms around his neck, bringing him closer until she was breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. Her own breathing slowed, her body relaxing further into his embrace. Instead, his heart was beating wildly where he pressed himself against her, his arms tightening around her waist until his own heart slowed and their heartbeats synchronized.

"I'm fine," she reassured. "He is gone, and we are here."

He nodded against her neck, reluctant to let go.

"I don't want to lose you again," he muttered, his shadows swirling softly around his neck.

"You won't."

"What he was saying, I…"

"The ramblings of an old man," she cut him off, shaking her head. She let go of his neck, putting some distance between them.

"You _deserve_ good things, Marz," he said. 

"I have good things in my life already, Az. I don't care about what he says."

"You were so _shaken_ by it."

"Well, I mean… it's not every day that you find out that your father wanted to kill you."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Az… You didn't know."

He shook his head, reaching for her hands again. There was regret written all over him, in his actions, his eyes, his voice. "He was one of my leads, and I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was possible."

Marzia blinked, lacing her fingers with him, as he looked down at their hands.

"I can't blame you for it."

"I can't believe that he would be so cruel after abandoning you."

"Well…"

"I should have killed him."

Marzia placed a hand on his chin, bringing his head up until their eyes locked.

"You protected me. That is enough. I don't care if he walked out of it alive."

"I promised you that I would kill whoever hurt you."

"What you did to him was enough, Az. I thank you for it."

He looked down again, bringing one of his hands to rest over her clothed thigh.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked, looking to change the subject.

"A few hours. The sun is about to set."

"Will we stay in the cottage tonight?"

"Yes. It's safe now."

By the Cauldron and the Mother, she believed him. She nodded, keeping her head down and her eyes focused on the hand over her thigh. Azriel's scars were brutal, a reminder of unspoken terrors. Maybe someday he would tell her about them.

He noticed her eyes and moved his fingers until they touched hers. They stayed like that for a few minutes, fingers twined, while a log moved in the fireplace beside them, shooting embers into the air.

"You froze," Azriel said, soft.

She knew that he didn't mean now, but earlier, when her father had cornered her, and she had let him.

"I couldn't think straight," she admitted, choking. "I had never seen him, Azriel. I had no memories of him whatsoever. But he-"

"You were scared."

"I thought he had come to finish the job." She paused, trying to regain her calm. "He probably would have done it, too, if it hadn't been for you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. You can't deny that I was useless out there."

"You are not a warrior, Marz. You left those ideas behind."

"I'm a _coward,"_ she rasped, her lip trembling. 

"You took down two of his minions, using an Illyrian crossbow."

"Big deal. You killed the rest of them."

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to use an _Illyrian_ crossbow? Not even Cassian can."

"That-"

"Is the truth, my dear. You can fight. You know how to."

"It wasn't enough."

His lips were upon hers quickly, taking her by surprise. He held onto her, grabbing her hips to pull her over his lap. 

"You were perfect today," he whispered between kisses.

"Don't lie," she said, pulling away from him. 

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it? Tell me."

She sighed, looking up towards the ceiling. 

"I was furious when I saw him, but soon my strength left me and I was useless in front of him."

"He was right in front of you, threatening you."

"You weren't scared like I was."

"He wasn't my father."

She bit her lip. 

"Marz," he said, twirling a lock of her hair and pulling it behind her ear. "It's okay to feel scared."

"No, not like that."

"Yes," he said. "You have endured so much. You are allowed to feel scared in moments like those."

She shook her head, biting her lips. She had never hesitated before. Her hands had been stained with the blood of vile creatures, and that of others who were innocent. Not once had her fingers trembled, or her heart been swayed. But the moment she was faced with her father, she was nothing but a useless coward.

"You are not a killer," Azriel said, wiping away the tears that had begun rolling down her cheeks. 

"But I have killed."

"You haven't found pleasure in the kill. And you wouldn't have been happy to lose your father, despite how he treated you."

"You said that you should have killed him…"

"Yes, I should have. But doing so would have hurt you, and that is the last thing I want."

"Why?"

Azriel sighed, and she began to wonder if he was going to answer when his hand suddenly fell over her heart. He looked at her for a minute, silent. Then, he lowered his gaze. 

"I've never felt like I belong somewhere. But I know I belong at your side, Marz." When he looked up again, his eyes were rimmed with tears. "I know I ran away from you all those years ago…"

"Az…"

"These past few months have been some of the best of my life. Thanks to you."

She shook her head, blinking away more tears. 

"You can't mean that…"

"I mean it, with my whole entire heart."

This time, when she threw herself in his arms and pressed herself against him, she didn't care that their tears mixed with their kisses. If this beautiful, gentle, and caring male wanted her, then she would not deny him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks go to my wonderful beta reader :) She knows who she is and how much she helped me to edit this as I struggled with writing it. Much love to her!
> 
> Also, we are nearing the end! :( Only a couple more chapters left.


	15. Chapter 15

◇◇◇

**_AZRIEL_ **

The advancing winter season brought them closer. After leaving her cottage, which they had packed up neatly, they only left behind the bare essentials for someone else to eventually use it like she had done before. Marzia had been saddened to leave, but upon their return to Velaris, she had worked tirelessly in their new house, until it was ready for them to move.

He had his clothes taken from the Riverfront house and the House of Wind, and placed in his new townhome. His wardrobe had been too big for what little he owned, but as Marzia settled, her clothes had also begun to fill the space. 

Now, as she lounged half-dressed on his bed, he wished she would take those clothes and put them on. 

"It's the Winter Solstice, Marz," he said, buttoning his silky black shirt. "We are expected-"

"At the House of Wind, I know," she said, rolling over on her back.

Her lacy underthings rode further up her torso, leaving almost her entire abdomen exposed. She was doing a good job at wanting to keep him there, at her side. 

"Cauldron be damned, Marz." 

He sat on the bed next to her, splaying his large hand over her entire stomach, failing to convince his fingers to not dip under the hem of her top.

"This could be your Solstice gift," she said, low, placing her hand over his, and bringing it further up, until he brushed her breast.

"If this is my gift, I would rather have it _after_ the party."

"Why not now?"

"Because I would be risking _going_ at all."

He got up, removing his hand from her body with great effort. She followed suit, chuckling in his direction, her laugh echoing in the sparse room that they shared. When she removed her lacy top, her back turned to him, he exited the room hastily before he could change his mind.

If she kept it up, he would lose his mind before the party was over and he could come back to their house. Then, when it was only him and her, he'd make sure to leave his marks on her.

For weeks now, the connection that had joined them together all those years ago, was beginning to grow taut. He felt anchored to her in a way he hadn't felt before, but he didn't know what that meant. Rhys had said that when the bond snapped into place, he would _know_ for sure at the exact moment. 

He waited for her downstairs, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the couch. When she came down the steps, dressed in a beautiful bright periwinkle-blue gown, his jaw dropped. The dress left her shoulders uncovered, but the neckline was delicately wrought with beads of mother of pearl and round sapphires, extending around the top edges of the soft tulle sleeves that reached down to her wrists. The mother of pearl beads extended down, growing sparse as they reached her waist, where a similarly wrought belt cinched around the soft and airy fabric of her gown. The skirt opened up in a big poof of blue tulle, with a slit that almost reached her thigh, extending past her ankles and pooling around her feet despite the silver heels that made her look taller than usual. 

Marzia, beaming, stood at the bottom of the staircase, her hair tied up in a low updo, to keep her neck and shoulders bare and free of her loose curls. No jewelry adorned her, and her face was dusted with the faintest traces of makeup to enhance her features. Her hair also seemed to have been dusted by a shimmery glow, as if stars had placed themselves on it. 

He took her hand, bowed, and kissed the back of it. "You are breathtaking," he whispered. "The Mother blessed you upon the day of your birth."

When he rose again, standing a breath of distance apart from her, he could have sworn by the Cauldron that his heart was about to burst from his chest at the sight. Even his shadows were quiet, awed. 

"The dress was a gift from Feyre and the High Lord," she said, fixing the collar of his shirt.

"The dress just adds to it. You are gorgeous by yourself."

He placed his lips on hers, relishing on the feeling of her hands wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer. As his hands settled around her waist, bringing her even closer to him, he almost wished they didn't have to attend the party. Not when she felt so deliciously warm against him that his shadows were basically begging to take her upstairs again. He cleared his throat.

"Will you behave tonight, my dear?" A question meant for both of them.

"Of course. Especially because I know what is waiting for me when I come back." She gave him a suggestive look, one that showed she hadn't forgotten about their earlier encounter. Or their current exchange.

"Good girl."

◇◇◇

He couldn't winnow into the House of Wind. He had to fly there, but Marzia… she didn't like flying anymore. So he winnowed to the steps of the house, as far as he could get without triggering the ancient spells and protections that guarded it, and patiently walked the rest of the way with their arms linked.

Once inside, he took a quick look at the scars on her back. They were still visible, but they had faded in almost four months. Like Madja had said, she would always have them, but now her pain had lessened. 

Since they had returned from the cottage, they had barely talked about what had happened there. Marzia had already said enough. He couldn't blame her if she just wanted to forget about that confrontation. 

He hoped, however, that the emotional scars both events left on her would soon fade as well - for her sake and wellbeing. Now that her plans included staying at his side, he only wanted to evolve at her side and see her become who she was meant to be, no matter what.

He wondered, sometimes, if that meant that he loved her. He couldn't stop considering that question, reaching deep inside himself to find an answer that always seemed to escape him. He often dropped it before he developed a headache, but if seeing her happy and cared for made him feel like he was doing the right thing, then maybe he could call that love and live happy with it.

Azriel couldn't compare her to Mor. Both females were different, but wild in their own unique ways. He had always known, though, that Morrigan would never love him like he wanted. Marzia had always accepted him, faults and all, and she had loved him from the moment she set eyes on him. 

She was easy to love, too. She was sweet to look at, soft to touch, easy to talk to. She could always read him, despite him being unreadable. She knew when something troubled him, she knew when he needed his space, she understood when he had to leave. By the Cauldron and the Mother, she seemed to have been made to complement his every essence.

Rhys reached them as they crossed the red stone archway that led to the dining room. The place was illuminated by many orbs of faerie light, glowing softly in the chill winter night. Rhys smiled at them.

"Welcome," he said. "Azriel, Marzia - make yourselves at home."

Most members of his family were already lounging on the terrace that overlooked the city. He joined them with Marzia still at his side, before she was quickly swept away by Morrigan to where some chairs had been laid out.

Once alone, Rhys joined him by the balcony.

"Happy Solstice, brother," Rhys said, smiling. 

"Happy Solstice, indeed," he said, his eyes trailing after Marzia to where she sat with Mor and Feyre. 

"I see you are happier now that you have someone like her at your side," Rhys said, following the direction of his gaze.

"Yes," he answered, still unable to tear his eyes from her. 

"How are things going with her?"

"I think I love her."

Rhys' eyes softened, until his gaze was understanding. "And the bond?"

"I don't know. As long as she is with me…"

"You don't really care," Rhys said, nodding as his gaze settled on Feyre. "I used to feel the same."

Cassian and Nesta walked in a minute later, their brother joining them a second after. 

"How long until we can eat?" He asked.

"Are you always thinking about food, Cass?" Rhys asked. 

"Well, not always," he said, shrugging. "Sometimes I think about Nesta-"

Azriel groaned and Rhys pretended to gag, while Cassian's howling laughter reached the ears of the females sitting nearby.

"Do I want to know what they are laughing about?" Mor asked out loud to no one in particular. 

But Marzia was looking at him, her eyes wide and her smile wider, as if there was no one else but him in that terrace.

"We are waiting for Amren, Varian, Elain and Lucien," Rhys said. "Then, we will eat."

For them, however, there was no one else. The pull felt strange, somehow stronger, as if Fate had decided to play a game that night.

The rest of the guests arrived. Pleasantries were exchanged. Food was eaten. Gifts were given.

Azriel wasn't surprised when his family gifted him things. A new dagger. A fancy pen. A pair of socks from Cassian. Simple, easy things. Marzia was dumbfounded when she received hers. Dresses, jewelry, something from Mor that made her blush. 

It was an acceptance from his family to her. One that made him happy to see. It made him feel safe.

"I hadn't expected such kindness from them," she whispered an hour later, when they left the others dancing inside to take a breath in the balcony outside.

"They like you."

"Well, I like them too."

He kissed her forehead, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"I haven't given you your gift," she whispered, looking up at him.

"I thought I would have to wait until we went back home."

"That's _one_ of your gifts. I have another one."

"Good. So do I."

He produced a small box from the pocket between worlds that he sometimes used for storage. It was a delicate box, the violet velvet of the pillow inside so dark that the diamond stud earrings perched on it shone brightly in the moonlight.

"They are beautiful," she said, her voice wavering.

"A simple gift," he said, closing the box and handing it to her.

She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"My gift isn't tangible, but I have been thinking about it for a while now."

"What do you mean?" He asked, quirking up one of his eyebrows.

"I want you to take me flying."

He staggered a step back, finding no traces of a lie in her molten gold eyes. 

"Really?" He asked. "Even after…"

"I know what I said before. But you saved me. You kept me safe in those mountains, and I…"

"Marz…"

"I want to thank you. I want you to know that I trust you. That even if I can never have my wings back, you will be there to protect me like they used to. You are my new wings, Azriel."

Everything around him quieted as he took her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. First on her forehead, then on her lips. His hands tightened around her waist, and with a boom of wings, he was off the ground with her firmly tucked against him.

Marzia let out a surprised yelp, holding on to his body for support. In the sky, with a clear head, he looked at her.

It was as if he were seeing her for the first time. His heart stopped in his chest; his shadows fell completely silent. Marzia was there, the same as a second before, but different. There was something that called to him, stronger than before, if that was even possible. That mix of emotions felt strange and foreign in his body, but they didn't scare him. 

He realized she felt the same when their eyes locked and he _knew._ He knew he would never get tired of looking at her, of being with her, for the rest of his long immortal life. His shadows joined in with his words, whispering only one word.

_Mate, mate, mate._

"Finally," she whispered, bringing him closer for a searing kiss. 

He felt the shift, the unmistakable change in their scents as the mating bond snapped into place, binding them together for the rest of eternity. 

"Do you think that your family will be too upset if I grab some food to give you and then you whisk me away to our house?"

"I think Rhys might have to find himself a new spymaster," he said, kissing her neck. "Because as soon as I do that, I won't leave our house for at least a month."

She giggled against him, biting her lower lip and nodding.

His _mate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! The final chapter for now! Why, you may ask? Because I have in mind to write a prologue of sorts, but I haven't had the time to fully flesh it out given that life has gotten in the way. It might be a week, it might be a month, it might be more, who knows?  
> I also have written some snippets or flashbacks to their pasts, and I will eventually post those as well, but with this chapter, the story is done!  
> Thank you to everyone who stuck around and read through this little story to its end! <3


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